Sotto Voce
by OddKitty
Summary: In which Draco Malfoy is rendered speechless and Harry Potter can't help but listen. Post Hogwarts, generally ignoring DH.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Sorry for any span, FFnet is being a pain - removed part of my formatting, then wouldn't save the changes after I'd made them. *shakes fist*. Hope you enjoy!**  
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* * *

Blood loss was a curious thing. At first all he could do was panic, so it was a good thing that the house elves had standing instructions to summon para-medi wizards whenever a medical emergency should occur. Draco was certainly in no position to order them to do it, or send a distress signal of his own.

Then came the fuzziness and the floaty, had-too-many-glasses-of-firewhiskey sensation. That part he didn't mind, but the nausea and cold sweat he could have done without. As the seconds ticked by, a lot of things began to lose importance and thought became a monumental effort. In the background, he could hear his son sobbing and apologising over and over again and the last thing he saw were two para-medi wizards apparate directly into the manor. His last ambling thought was to wonder how they managed it. Then darkness encroached upon his vision, he shut his eyes and thought no more.

* * *

Harry didn't much like St Mungo's, but then he supposed not many people really did. He'd been spending an inordinate amount of time there of late and it still had not improved his opinion of the place. Not that the staff, or the facilities were lacking; the Hospital was very well tended and the nurses and medi-wizards were some of the best in their profession. Though it was a place for life and healing; death, infirmity, sickness and pain were the things that Harry tended to associate with the place. If they didn't have the finest collection of medical/healing texts in the British Isles, he would not have been there at all.

At the time Malfoy was wheeled in and taken to Emergency, Harry had been about to leave but found himself rooted to the spot. His wand hand twitched and he was brought back to his childhood, when he'd cast a spell he knew nothing about at a blond, pointy-faced git. The event so fresh in his mind he could hear the dripping tap and feel slick tile beneath his feet and all he could see was Malfoy's pale, pale skin in a shirt drenched crimson with blood.

It suddenly became imperative that he find out Malfoy's condition. He needed to know that he was okay. He needed Malfoy to recover, but for the life of him, couldn't figure out why.

* * *

There were many things in life that Malfoy wanted; his family name to be spoken with respect and reverence like it ought, the vault at Gringott's to be restored to its former wealth, his own chocolate frog collectible card and the latest Nimbus flying broom. But right now, he'd settle for Astoria leaving him the bloody hell alone. He was absolutely fine. That hadn't been true four hours ago, but with the swift actions of the healers, the blood transfusion to replenish what he'd lost and the potions that were stablising him even now, he was more than fine. Well, almost fine. But Astoria wasn't helping any with her flimsy pretence of being a caring wife. He'd been moved to his own private room and the nurse had left twenty minutes ago. He didn't need his wife fluttering and clucking around him like a chick that had fallen from the nest when there was no audience for her to parade to.

Her hands were wrapped around the crown of his head and she was weeping and cooing into his hair and there were many things that he would suffer, but not this. His hair was a point of pride. Malfoy's were always presentable. Having snot and tears matting his hair was not an impression he wanted to make. Her hysterics right now was just another reason he regretted marrying her.

He didn't hate her, per say, but right now she was on his last nerve and sick people shouldn't have do deal with this shit. He opened his mouth the inform her of that point - though maybe more carefully worded - and hit a block. He gasped. It barely made a sound.

Urgently he tugged on a strand of her hair that dangled in his face, hard enough that she yelped and favoured him with an intense glare, it's edge somewhat spoiled by her bloodshot and puffy eyes. With her attention on him now, he tried again to speak, came up against the same block and felt the edges of panic stabbing his gut.

Astoria, pretty, silly little flower gave him a puzzled but somehow still annoyed look. He tapped at his throat urgently and tried to call her several highly inappropriate names while she eyed him with incomprehension. His lip curled back in a silent snarl and he searched near frantically for the button that would call the nearest healer. Once he'd spotted it he began to hit it repeatedly.

Healer Rogers, who'd introduced himself earlier, peered into the room. Draco mouthed the words, "Get her away from me!" and received an almost identical expression of incomprehension from him. Draco slapped a hand to his forehead in frustration and stared witheringly at both his wife and the healer.

"Is there something wrong Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco opened his mouth reflexively to respond with an acidic, "No everything's just peachy!" and almost lost the battle to start crying.

"He can't speak, Phillip." If he'd still had his voice, it would have died in his throat. Standing behind Healer Roger's shoulder almost like an afterthought was none other than Harry Potter, gaze firmly fixed on Draco as he spoke. He didn't know how he'd missed his approach. Draco's face coloured with shame and embarrassment at having someone he'd once considered an enemy see him in such a vulnerable state. Potter's face was carefully neutral, showing neither pity, hatred or amusement and Draco decided he hated him more for it.

"Harry," Healer Rogers yelped, startled. Rogers stood a little straighter and a faint blush dusted his cheeks. Potter spared him a flick of his eyes before returning his attention to the bed.

"Malfoy," Potter greeted with a nod, "Mrs Malfoy." Astoria, _finally_ withdrew and subsided into the chair beside him. She was watching Potter warily. Though she didn't have the same history with Potter that Draco did - she'd been two grades lower - Astoria was still aware of his exploits during Hogwarts and what was being reported in the papers. Draco returned his greeting with a begrudging nod. At least Potter had gotten his wife off him. And he'd seen in a moment what his wife hadn't comprehended at all, with only a glance to lead him to his conclusion. Draco was certain that the healer would have figured it out after a minute, but it would have been the most agonising minute of Draco's adult life. Well, that might be an exaggeration. Trying to get Astoria pregnant had been the most horrifying and awkward month of their marriage. And that didn't even scratch on the chat they'd had to have after Astoria caught him ploughing their gardener, Christoff, while she'd been eight months pregnant with their son.

Astoria offered him a clipped, "Mr Potter, how good of you to drop by," but couldn't hide the distaste from her tone. Harry snorted in amusement, folded his arms and leant against the door frame as Healer Rogers entered the room and began performing diagnostic spells over Draco.

Draco kept a steely eye on the doorway and allowed himself to study the man he hadn't seen in eight years. Oh, he'd seen his photo in the Prophet over the years, but the little black and white pictures hardly did him any justice. His hair, as wild as it had ever been had a streak of white that swept back from his right temple and made Draco curious as to what had caused it. Potter's eyes were as lively as he remembered but carried a shadow that had no doubt been there since the war. And he was fit. Which was not something that Draco was prepared for.

Whenever Draco had seen photo's of Potter, he'd been typically dressed in his Auror robes, having just foiled some dastardly plot or dismantled an illegal potions ring. Draco was suddenly seeing the benefits of muggle clothing over robes now. Potter was wearing a t-shirt in an almost offensive shade of yellow, with navy blue writing proclaiming its allegiance to Burberry Badgers, which could have been an amateur league Quidditch team or some obscure muggle reference that Draco could care less about. It was short sleeved, though, which nicely showed off the muscles in Potter's arms and fit him neatly around the torso - not too loose, nor tight - that he could forgive the colour of it. Potter's legs were encased in what Pansy had once informed him were known as 'jeans'. They were a dark, dirty blue that was faded along the creases, but by the look, were 'fashionably distressed' and not simply well-worn. His clothes looked comfortable, which could explain why Harry looked so at ease in his own skin. Self-possessed in a way that he'd never quite been at school.

Draco felt saliva pool in his mouth and had to swallow or start drooling.

"Nothing is showing up in the usual tests," Healer Rogers announced with a frown and Draco startled, having quite forgotten about any other presence in the room save for himself and Potter. It took a second for the words to sink in and when they did he had to narrow his eyes at Rogers in silent demand, anxiety suddenly flooding him. Something should have shown up.

"I think I know why," Harry ventured delicately, looking like he didn't want to offend anyone by his input. Healer Rogers turned to stare at Harry for a drawn out moment, the frown deepening. Rogers begrudgingly nodded his assent to Potter, whose face broke into a smile that lit up his face. "You mainly focused your diagnostic spells on Malfoy's throat where the physical wound was. Try scanning his chest and his head, though a full body scan might be best," Harry suggested, then settled back against the doorframe.

Draco wanted to scream at him to leave or at least demand to know what he was doing here and why a Healer was listening to a non-healer about medical spells but he couldn't, so he narrowed his eyes and glared his hatred, hoping to melt Harry with the force of his stare. Potter caught his eye and shrugged apologetically but made no effort to leave or come further into the room. Trust Potter to be so infuriating.

Roger drew in a sharp breath, his wand hovering in front of Draco's face. "He's right," he breathed. Draco was sure that he was the only one to hear him and he couldn't help but turn his eyes back to Potter, who was watching the proceedings with quiet curiosity. Rogers turned to face Potter, "It's there, but it's like no spell I've ever seen that causes the victim to become mute. Healer Matheus will have to look at this. Will you be fine for awhile, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco had to drag his gaze back when he realised he was being addressed and nodded absently at the healer. _Mute_. He rolled the word around in his head, abstractly aware that the healer had left. _Mute_. Draco knew the meaning of the word, but any sense of comprehension refused to sink in. _Mute_. Peripherally he noticed Astoria break down into an inelegant slump, bawling unreservedly and _annoyingly_. It wasn't as if this affected her. Knowing the woman, she should be crowing with mirth on the inside. He opened his mouth ready to sting her into silence with a ready-made quip and faltered.

_Mute._

He couldn't talk. His breaths became shallow and quick and the outside world became muffled as if heard through a thick layer of cotton and only one word seemed to run through his head.

_Mute. Mute. Mute._

_Click_. The noise was subtle, but it sounded like the crack of apparation, echoing oddly in the suddenly silent room. He jerked his head up and looked around the room, though his vision was blurred strangely and he felt wetness dripping down his cheeks and wondered vaguely why that was. The room was empty, but not completely.

Someone dropped into the chair beside him; Potter, the great git, brow creased with worry and eyes alert and intrusive. Draco flinched when Potter raised his wand and gestured silently, a box of tissues that had been on Draco's opposite side flew towards Potter, who grabbed it almost absently before offering it to Draco, who stared at it without knowing really what it was for. Hesitantly he drew a tissue from the box and dabbed at the odd wetness on his face, sniffing pathetically.

"I sent your wife out to fetch coffee..." Potter murmured needlessly. Draco supposed he ought to be grateful. He just wished Potter had thought to disappear with her. He didn't want him here, seeing him like this. He was waiting for the taunts that would surely come, resolutely staring ahead, avoiding Potter's avid gaze. "I told her it was on the fifth floor, so that should keep her occupied for some time, unless she stoops to asking for directions, which, if she's anything like you, will be when pigs fly."

Draco whipped his head around to Potter, but there was nothing malicious in his tone or face, just a little half-smile that pulled up the left corner of his mouth in a fashion that Draco found in no way attractive. At all...no, really. _What is he even_ doing _here_? He wondered to himself as he tilted his head and raised one brow quizzically, as if that would help him figure it out better.

Potter looked caught by surprise than raised a hand to scratch at his neck, flicking his eyes towards the door. It drew Draco's attention to the crook of his elbow, where he could make out the sight of a cotton ball taped down with gauze, sparking his curiosity. "I was just visiting the resource centre when you were brought in. I wanted to make sure you were all right." Potter returned his gaze back to him. "You were in a bit of a state when they wheeled you in."

Draco rolled his eyes at the severe understatement. From what Rogers had said, he'd almost been bled dry and he was lucky that there was a blood donor on hand, since no amount of blood replenishing potions would have worked at that point. It was lucky that they'd manage to find a donor at all, since he was AB negative - a rare blood type, he was given to understand. Draco's eyes drifted almost unwillingly to the cotton and gauze taped to the inside of Potter's elbow and he narrowed them suspiciously at the man, who interpreted the silent accusation for what it was and shrugged sheepishly.

"O negative," Harry replied almost negligently, his face and neck flushing as he carefully avoided Draco's gaze. Like that explained anything. Oh, Draco knew that O negative was the only blood type that could be transfused to people of any type; that was academic. What he couldn't fathom, what he refused to comprehend was why Harry Potter would open up a vein for him. Ten years ago, Potter would have gladly watched him bleed out, he would bet his entire fortune on that. Draco shook his head disbelievingly.

Harry snorted in amusement and lounged back into the chair as he returned Draco's gesture. "We're not kids anymore, Malfoy. And while you used to drive me up the wall, I'm hoping we've grown up enough by now not to let past grievances set the tone for how we treat each other now."

That almost sounded halfway intelligible.

Harry favoured him with another amused look before abruptly standing and moving to the end of the bed, picking up the chart that hung from the bed rail. "May I?" He asked carefully, looking at Draco over the rim of his glasses. Draco could only nod absently and Potter was already scanning the page, brow creased in concentration. Draco studied him openly, wondering not for the first time why he hadn't demanded Potter leave beyond the fact that he couldn't actually, verbally demand anything at the moment. Potter would have understood him, though, but he'd probably ignore Draco anyway, just to be a nuisance. Eventually, he grew tired of staring at Potter, who was content to study the chart and ignore him, so Draco turned his attention to the room he'd been put in.

The room was relatively large, enough that it could have housed another three beds at least and painted the subtlest shade of yellow. The window at the far end of the room was edged in white and looked out onto the enchanted image of a sunny field with clouds scudding sedately across a sky of dazzling blue above the wind-ruffled, daffodil-dotted grass. The bed, unlike the cots found in the public wards was supportive but still soft, which spoke well of the money that bought it. There was a curtain that surrounded the bed, though it was drawn back at the moment and tables either side. A jug of water and a glass sat on his left, the tissue box now on the right, next to the chair that his wife and Potter had occupied earlier. There were no bouquets of flowers to wish him back to health, which he was a bit miffed at, but he'd only been at the hospital going on five hours now. He hoped his friends would make an appearance at some point. It was just beyond sad that the only visitor he'd had so far was Potter. Draco wriggled his toes beneath the sheets and sighed with approval. Egyptian cotton; there was nothing like it.

If there was one thing to be said for being a St Mungo's board member, it was the five star treatment that his name would not have garnered otherwise. While it was becoming less common, his family still found themselves on the end of vicious stares, hexes and hate mail. Philanthropy had been the quickest route to improving their status in the wizarding world, as his father had known well and Draco had taken his example, donating what little he could have afforded at the time. It meant that he'd had to sell off the holiday homes in Switzerland and Bulgaria to maintain the front of wealth, but his mother had refused outright to allow him to sell off the villa in the south of France. It was where she spent most of her time, cloistered away from the public eye, amidst the countryside and isolated from wizard- and muggle-kind alike. They corresponded at least once a month, though the conversation was always the same.

Narcissa had initially approved of the match, but soon found Astoria's company grating and conversation lacking and so exiled herself from the manor. She always asked Draco when he would get rid of Astoria, so Narcissa could return and reclaim her place as Lady of the house. The way Narcissa would phrase her question was rather ambiguous at best, and somewhat unsettling; Malfoy's just didn't do divorce. Draco had to remind himself that his Mother was also a Black and Black's weren't shy about striking people from the family or dissolving marriage bonds. Better to suffer the indignity of divorce than the humiliation of housing blood traitors, leaden weights and the like. The Malfoy's were concerned with influence and power, Blacks were more focused on family and purity - they would let nothing endanger their family and they treated ill-suited in-laws (and white sheep) like septic limbs - to be amputated before the infection spread.

Draco was almost willing to consider divorce at this point. He'd had the documents drawn up some time ago, if he was honest with himself. They were locked in a security box at Gringott's and had been there since the day after he'd had to consummate the marriage. In the privacy of his own head, he was free to admit that he never would have suffered the intimate touch of a woman if he could have had an heir without the necessity of it. Astoria's use was slowly dwindling, now that she'd given him Scorpius, who was healthy and bright and so much the Malfoy that it was a wonder he wasn't a clone. Astoria had no maternal instinct either, and let the house-elves do her part of the parenting. Draco actually wondered if Astoria even remembered giving birth to him, some days.

He was interrupted from his musings by the door snapping open audibly. Healer Rogers and another man in Healer green stepped through. Harry jumped in surprise and fumbled the chart back into place with a guilty blush and a smile like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. The other man - he must have been Healer Matheus that Rogers had mentioned, laughed brightly, shaking his head.

"Mister Potter!" He boomed, "sticking your nose in again, I see!" Rogers frowned, looking slightly indignant, which Draco could understand. Potter shouldn't have been there, especially without any medical training to his name. Matheus was nothing but amused. "I'll make a healer of you yet, mark my words, Potter!"

Potter shook his head, friendly grin in place. "You keep thinking that, Matheus. Whatever makes you sleep better at night." Draco's mouth dropped open. That was bordering on bloody cheek! It would have been insubordination, but of course, Potter wasn't employed at St Mungo's. Matheus just laughed delightedly, eyes igniting at the challenge. He favoured Potter with a conspiratorial wink then turned his attention to Draco, picking up the chart that Potter had just laid down.

"And how are we feeling now, Mr Malfoy?" Matheus asked without looking up. Draco felt his eyes harden. At least Potter hadn't made jokes at his expense. He crossed his arms against his chest and waited things out. It wasn't as if he could make a verbal protest.

"Um, Healer Matheus, sir, the patient," Healer Rogers attempted, "...can't talk, remember, I told you?" He was in clear awe of Matheus, deferential and eager to please.

"Oh, right, right, yes, of course," Matheus murmured then looked up from his chart. He was a big man. Draco could have been excused for thinking that he might have been related to that oaf, Hagrid; they had the same small brown eyes and wild brown hair, though Matheus wore his clipped short and his face clean shaven. Unlike Hagrid, he was simply tall and broad, not part-giant. The spectacles he wore were thin and looked like they belonged to a much smaller man but his face was friendly and his gaze sharp. Draco felt like a bug under a magnifying glass.

The man whipped out his wand abruptly and ran them over Draco's head, neck and chest in much the same manner that Rogers' had done earlier and tutted with interest. "...Not a curse then," he announced loudly. He stood for a moment, deep in thought before clapping his hands together loudly and startling the occupants of the room. "Well, we can start by treating it as a normal curse; there are plenty of spells to reverse problems like this. If you're lucky, one of them will work. But we're not dealing with a curse, are we, Mister Malfoy?" His tone had turned almost accusatory.

Malfoy shook his head, no, it wasn't a curse, not in the usual sense.

"This looks to be the result of wild or involuntary magic and it differs from your stock standard curse because it doesn't hold a specific form. Since most spells and curses are thought, and planned and refined it's possible to reverse-engineer a counter-curse even if we don't know the actual name of the original spell off the bat.

"Involuntary magic doesn't always hold a form. It can act like a virus, mutating when it comes under attack and adapting to avoid being removed. In that way, these kinds of curses are considered more detrimental and more permanent. It also depends on the intent and the emotions of the caster as well as their magical strength. We'll do our best, we'll try what counter-curses we know of, we'll even look at potions for a solution, but you have to be prepared for the worst, Mister Malfoy."

Draco swallowed and looked away. Matheus continued, "considering that the worst is never regaining your voice, you should count yourself extremely lucky, young man. Many people who've come under similar attacks have not been so fortunate as you." Matheus stared at him gravely, as if trying to impress upon him his meaning. Draco didn't realise he'd reared back, intimidated, until a steady, comforting palm fell to his shoulder, which Draco was grateful for until he realised it was Potter. He shrugged his shoulder meaningfully and to his relief Potter withdrew his hand. Though he did remain close to his side, in a presumptuous show of support that Draco certainly hadn't asked for.

"We'll keep you here for a few days, so you can recover from the physical effects. Just because you've taken your potions and you're feeling better, doesn't mean that you're ready to move yet. We also don't know if there's any spell damage that might make itself apparent in future. I have to do my rounds now, and there are people in greater need than you for my attention, but I will see you when I can," Draco wrinkled his nose, affronted. He didn't like that his case wasn't top priority, he was a Malfoy, for goodness sake. "In the meantime, I'll send down one of my researchers to examine you and work on the counter-curse."

Matheus returned the chart after presumably scrawling his instructions in the space provided, then nodded his farewell. "Mister Malfoy. Potter. _Behave_, both of you," the healer said in parting. Harry chuckled softly, nodding his head obediently, but knowing Potter, the gesture was more than likely an empty one.

Rogers stayed long enough to treat Potter with a frown that was spoiled by the blush that followed when Potter returned his look with an endearing smile. The man stuttered his way out of the room and they were left alone.

Draco opened his mouth to tell him to go away and let his breath hiss out between his teeth when he hit the block that prevented him from speaking. Potter treated him with a moue of sympathy and raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Ok, ok, I get, I'm going. But before I do..." he trailed off as he stuck his hand into his pocket, tongue sticking out in concentration as he searched the depths. "Ah ha!" He pulled out a galleon and slid his wand from the other pocket and muttered a spell under his breath. Instead of leaving he moved to the bed and sat down on the edge. Even Draco's incredulous, wide-eyed affront went ignored and if it hadn't required touching him, Draco would have bodily pushed him off. Later, he'd say that it was beneath a Malfoy to resort to physical violence, but the truth was more that he was simply too stunned to act.

Potter held up the coin for Draco's inspection, "this, is not just any coin." Potter picked up Draco's hand and dropped the galleon into his palm, then curled his fingers forcibly around it. "We used these back in sixth year to keep in contact, genius little things. You just place your wand on the centre of it and think the message you need to send. It's keyed to this galleon only," Harry withdrew a coin that was hanging from a chain around his neck and let Draco look at it for a moment before tucking it back beneath his shirt.  
"That way, any DA members who may have kept their coins won't receive the message, just me. If you ever feel the need, you can call me and I'll come visit."

Draco sat reeling, only quite understanding every second word that burst from Potter's lips. Clearly, no one had warned him that Potter had gone insane during peace times. He should have cast the coin back into Potter's face, but found his finger's tightening involuntarily around it and listening in stunned amazement as Potter continued.

"I'll be around tomorrow for a visit anyway, whether you like it or not. I'd like to help, if you'll let me," Draco scrunched up his face. How on earth did Potter expect to help him?

"Don't look at me like that. I'll have you know I'm very useful to have around, sometimes. I'll see you tomorrow."

And with that, he disappeared, whisking the life from the room and leaving Draco feeling unaccountably bereft. _I need a stiff drink_, Draco lamented, before sinking into his pillow and staring at the ceiling, all the while twining the coin from finger to finger, feeling it warm against his skin.

* * *

"...And to quote Ron, have you gone barmy?" Harry heard Ron laughing in the background, clearly eavesdropping on the fire-call.

"Hermione!" he groused, though it came out more of a whine.

"No, don't give me that tone. You know he won't appreciate your interfering. Remember how well it worked out for you last time?" Hermione demanded. Harry could practically see her, hands poised on her hips in a stance that he was overly familiar with. The thought had him smiling fondly at her scowling face, which made her frown deepen in consternation.

"That was a long time ago," Harry protested with a negligent shrug of his shoulder. "We've grown up since then."

"Grown older, certainly. Grown up? Sometimes I wonder."

"Aren't you going to defend me against your wife, Ron?" Harry said loudly. Ron's face appeared beside Hermione's, expression apologetic.

"You should know by now that Hermione is always right, Mate."

"Traitor."

"What can I say? If I'm good, she'll let me fondle her breasts-"

"Ron!" Both Harry and Hermione cried out at once. The green flames did their best to hide her blush, but it couldn't hide the hint of a smile that twinkled in her eyes. These two love-birds were sickening sometimes. Ron continued on regardless, "- what can you offer me, mate?"

"How about a stiff middle finger?" Harry shot back, making the gesture for added affect and grinning widely.

"All grown up now, yes, I see that," Hermione commented sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Oh! While I remember, Ginny wanted me to remind you that you've got the kids tomorrow."

Harry hissed. He'd forgotten in the excitement of today. Not that he wasn't happy to take the boys, but it also meant fetching Teddy and then since he'd promised Malfoy that he'd visit, it in turn meant bringing three young boys to St Mungo's. He groaned. "Tomorrow...is going to be interesting..."

"Better you than me, mate. Night," Ron replied with an unsympathetic grin before disappearing from the flames. Harry shook his head bemusedly.

Hermione huffed. "I'd caution you against further involving yourself with Malfoy, but I know it'll only be a waste of breath," she sighed with exasperation, but then her features sharpened suddenly. "Take care," she demanded and it was a warning, not a well-wish.

"You know me, 'Mione," Harry responded cheerfully with a small shrug.

"Yes, unfortunately. Goodnight, Harry," her tone was dry but affectionate.

The fire returned to normal and Harry sighed. Some days - usually the ones when he was alone at Grimmauld Place without the kids, he missed those days at Hogwart's when his friends had been _right there_, with an overwhelming longing that made it hard to breath. At the moment, the kids spent their weekdays at Ginny's and the weekends with him. It wasn't nearly enough time for his liking, especially now that he had so much free time on his hands. He might try to convince Ginny to give him three days out of the week, instead of two, or arrange it so they could spend a full week alternating between either parent.

Ginny was getting busier now that she'd been convinced to return to the Holyhead Harpies. Harry was sure that his children probably spent more time at the Burrow with Molly than with Ginny. He didn't begrudge her for it, but it was time that he could be spending with his boys. Although, there was nothing stopping him from visiting them at the Burrow, unless you counted Molly's desire for Harry and Ginny to get back together, which made for an awkward atmosphere at best.

On some nights, when he was especially lonely, Harry sometimes regretted their decision to divorce. It would have been so easy for them to stay together; maybe not in love, but at least loving, and caring for one another. It would have suited him quite well, but it would have made Ginny miserable and they would both end up resenting the other. That was certainly where they'd been headed before Ginny proposed the separation. He'd agreed, reluctantly and then moved into the spare room. It took him a long time to get to grips with the new situation, but once he had, he only felt relief. There was less pressure on both of them, fewer expectations and suddenly they were at ease with each other and able to talk like they'd never been able to while they'd been together. It wasn't always easy, and there'd been days steeped in hurtful silence when they'd started fighting each other earnestly but it had been cathartic, too. It was ironic that as their marriage broke down, their relationship had become so much stronger and more honest than it had ever been. Their resulting friendship still baffled their family and friends.

Some even argued that they should get back together since, _clearly_, they were so good together. But they just couldn't go back like that. Harry and Ginny had come too far and grown so much that it would have been like walking backwards.

Harry flopped backwards onto the carpet and breathed a deep sigh and wished, not for the first time, that he could have loved Ginny the way she needed him to. Then he shook himself and made his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth and settle in for the night. Tomorrow...would definitely be a challenge.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco was getting annoyed. At his wife, at the healer who'd come in to study the curse, at the walls, at the pompous arrangement of flowers that Pansy and Theodore had sent by courier and hadn't delivered in person. He was irritated by the hospital gown he was still wearing, at the bandages that scratched at his neck and the stupid field outside the stupid enchanted window and the stupid people who passed by his stupid room and stupid Harry Bloody Potter who hadn't shown up like he'd promised. But mostly he was annoyed at his stupid, stupid self for anticipating Potter's visit and annoyed at being annoyed that the git hadn't shown neither hide nor hair yet.

He huffed indignantly and continued to ignore Astoria as she prattled on, no doubt taking advantage of the fact that Draco couldn't tell her to shut up or respond with a snide comment. He would have put a silencing spell on _her _if he could have done as he pleased, but apparently casting hexes in a hospital was rather frowned upon.

Every now and then, Draco would pick the odd word out of Astoria's monologue, like 'galleons', 'Italy', 'dress robes' and 'holiday' but paid little mind, too intent on sulking. All he wanted to do was return to the manor, take a long soak and then play with his son, have a firewhiskey and curl up in front of a roaring fire and then sleep in his own bed.

Abruptly, Astoria stopped nattering and let out a shriek as three small creatures darted into the room and clambered to a stop in front of her. Three boys, as it turned out. The tallest, and possibly oldest, skidded to a halt but had to put his hands on Astoria's knees to stop from falling face first into her lap. His hair was a bright, virulent purple and he laughed breathlessly as the next boy collided bodily into him - a brunet with chestnut eyes and a loud laugh that sounded eerily familiar. The third and smallest boy entered last and pulled to stop at the end of Draco's bed. All he could see of him was the messy black mop of hair, peeking over the mattress. Draco turned his attention back to Astoria as she whimpered and the purple-haired boy straightened to knock off a salute to her, "Hey lady!" he said by way of greeting. Draco felt the mattress dip and turned to see the youngest boy attempting to pull himself up onto the bed on Draco's other side and nearly swallowed his tongue when he was greeted by a familiar pair of dazzling green eyes.

"Boys!" The shout snapped across the room and all attention turned to Potter, who was standing in the doorway, slightly out of breath and glasses askew. The young boy who'd managed to get one leg up onto the mattress let out a distressed, "eep!" and started sliding back off. Draco instinctively grabbed him by the collar and reefed him up into his lap. The little Harry Potter clone squealed delightedly at his sudden flight and smiled brightly at Draco. He offered a shy, "'lo" and stared at him with open curiosity.

The real Harry Potter slapped a hand to his face, hard. "Teddy, James, back off, give Mrs Malfoy some room. Al...I thought you were the sensible child," Potter moaned aggrievedly. The two older boys quickly returned to Potter's side, looking not apologetic in the slightest, the brunet still laughing until Potter raised a carefully arched brow at him, crossing his arms against his chest. Draco couldn't see the boy's expression, but his shoulders hunched and his head drooped. The elder boy remained un-phased. "Now both of you apologise to Mister and Mrs Malfoy."

The two mumbled their apologies, and Astoria put a shaky hand to her heart but nodded, trying to regain her composure. "Al..." Potter shook his head, not quite sure what to do with him. The little boy, Al, turned back to Draco and quietly murmured his own, "sorry" then leant forward and planted a kiss on Draco's cheek before leaning back and giggling, no doubt at Draco's slack jaw.

Harry came forward and gestured for Al, who responded by holding his arms up. Harry grabbed him by the wrists and pulled him up and off Draco's lap to rest him against his hip. Al slung his arms possessively around his father's neck and buried his face in his shoulder. Harry ruffled his hair affectionately then turned to Draco. "I'm _really_ sorry. They should know better than to barge into other people's hospital rooms," he turned to the older boys with a hard look. "You guys promised me you'd behave. Grandma Molly's going to hear about this. And Nana 'Meda, Teddy. But that's not going to be anything when I tell Ginny," he threatened.

Amusingly the boys dropped to the floor with despairing wails and crawled to grip the tails of Harry's robe, "No! Anything but Aunty Ginny!" "Please don't tell mum! We'll be good! We _swear_!" Harry treated them to an intense inspection.

"All right..." Harry decided eventually but cut across their cheering quickly. "But because you disobeyed me, we're not going to Fortescue's for ice cream like we planned.

"But you promised us!" It was probably James that voiced the protest, Draco wasn't sure yet, which was which.

"And you two promised me that you'd at least _pretend_ to be civilised humans, not little monkey's with no self-control. This is a hospital, not a jungle-gym. No. No ice cream and no Quidditch this afternoon."

"Bu-"

"Wha-"

In unison, and in the same brittle whine they both cried, "that's not _faaaaair!"_

"Then maybe you should consider what you've done wrong and why I'm disappointed in you, _both_ of you," Harry pulled his wand from his pocket and conjured two low-set chairs in opposite corners on the far side of the room and facing the walls. He pushed James into one chair and pointed Teddy towards the other, who went with a pout and a muttered, "too old for this". Harry heard and snapped back, "then you should have known better."

James looked on the verge of tears when he turned around and pointed at Al, who was still clinging to his dad. "_He _ran too, Al _never_ get's in trouble!"

"Don't point, James, that's dangerous. Al will be punished as well. _None_ of you are getting ice cream or playing quidditch. That includes Al. The reason that you're sitting in a corner reflecting and Al isn't, is because Al actually meant it when he apologised and he already knows he's done something wrong, which is more I can say for the pair of you."

"But-"

"Not another word, James Sirius Potter. Eyes front."

"I _hate_ you!" James snapped, voice thick with tears and shoulders shaking with hiccoughs. Draco watched Harry's face and didn't miss the indrawn breath or the narrowing of his eyes.

Teddy turned on his chair and stage whispered audibly to James. "If you just be quiet, the time'll go faster." Potter didn't reprimand the boy for breaking the silence but ran a tired hand down his face and turned back to Draco and his wife. He move closer to the bed, shutting out the two boys from the conversation. He adjusted Al on his hip and Draco noted that Al's eyes were red and Potter's shoulder was suspiciously damp. The yelling must have upset him; the boy had seemed fine before.

After the yelling and drama earlier, the room was almost too quiet, though it was broken by the shuddering teary breaths James tried to muffle into his shirt.

"Truly, I'm sorry. I'd forgotten what day it was. I always have the kids on the weekend, so I should've postponed my visit, but I don't like to break my promises," Harry paused and threw a look over his shoulder, frowning. "They're not always like this...I suspect George fed them sugar before he handed them to me. Although, Teddy doesn't really have that excuse. Andromeda makes sure he eats well."

Draco started at the name and turned to the boy, Teddy, in the corner, whose hair had turned a sullen kind of blue. That was his second cousin. "Teddy's...he's...spirited," Harry managed. Teddy had his hands atop his head and was gazing at a spot high on the wall. It didn't look as if he was particularly penitent; this punishment must have been old hat for him and he was probably trying to show off to the young Potter boy in the opposite corner, who every now and then shot him a brief look.

"I'm going to...go to the cafeteria for a while, let you boys talk," Astoria stated as she rose, dignity back intact, but her steps were not a little hurried as she retreated from the room.

_Well, at least _some_ good came out of Potter's visit._ Potter settled into the vacated chair, Al in his lap. "I brought you a present," he announced suddenly. He fumbled in a pocket and pulled out what look like a small card and a tiny box until he enlarged the objects and passed the first one to Draco. "It's a whiteboard. You can use it to write on, and wipe it clean when you want to write something new. I didn't know if they had a wizarding equivalent, but I thought this couldn't hurt." Draco raised his eyebrows at Potter and curled his lip, gripping the whiteboard between thumb and forefinger.

"Don't be like that, Malfoy, you're not going to catch muggle off it. It's quite safe," Potter said in a patronising tone. "Here," Harry stole it from his hands and took the round cylindrical thing that was clipped to the side and pulled off the cap. He wrote, 'sorry about the little monsters. I don't know where they get it from.'

Draco snorted inelegantly and pulled a face that said, "oh, really?" Harry just picked up the rectangular thing and wiped it over the board, removing his writing before passing it back to Draco. The pen was much more convenient than a quill, at the very least. But that was as much praise as Draco could give it. He uncapped the pen and pulled the board close to his chest so Potter couldn't read and quickly wrote down his own message, turning it to face Potter with a flourish.

"You are a Prat." It read. Potter sputtered at that indignantly but Draco was already writing again. "and thanks, I suppose." Harry gave him that lopsided smile and wordlessly handed over his other present.

Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. Draco's eyebrows disappeared into his fringe. He hadn't seen these in years. He turned to Potter and nodded solemnly in thanks. Harry's half-smile expanded until it lit his entire face and Draco was again reminded that yes, at some point, Potter had become attractive.

"You're welcome," Potter replied softly. The moment stretched longer than it naturally should have. It took the sound of an alarm going off down the corridor to break the tension. "Ah, I, we should be going. And leave you to it. I'll come back later, but without the boys next time." Then he stood, depositing Al on the floor beside him and went to deal with the two boys in their opposite corners. Draco watched on in interest - their visit had been the most exciting thing that happened all day and would probably be the only bright spot over the next couple of days while he was holed up at St Mungo's.

Potter was kneeling when he called out to the boys, their chairs vanishing as they rose and made their way over. Al stood at his back with a hand clenched in his father's robes and the thumb of his other hand in his mouth. "Now I want you to explain to me why you had to sit in the corner," Potter told them. He had a hand on each boy's shoulder and flicked his gaze from one to the next, searching their faces for some sign of remorse.

Teddy spoke up first. "Because we ran off when you told us not to...we made lots of noise..."

"And?" Harry prompted. This time James answered.

"And we didn't mean it when we said sorry..."

"Do you know why I was disappointed by that, James?"

"No..." the voice came out tiny and tearful.

"It's because you didn't respect the importance of this hospital. This is a place for people who are ill or hurt and are trying to get better and they need peace and quiet to do that. By running through the halls like you did, you not only disrespected them, but the healers who are trying to help them. You didn't respect Mister and Mrs Malfoy when you ran into their room and disturbed _their_ peace, either. But mostly I'm sad because your actions showed that you didn't respect me or the trust I put in you boys to behave."

James began crying again, "I'm s-s-s-sorry, Daddy!" He wailed and threw himself forward into his father's chest almost knocking Potter's glasses from his nose as he wrapped an arm around his neck. Even Teddy looked on the verge of crying, but his apology was whispered into Harry's ear as he leant in for his own hug.

"Come here, Al," Potter raised the arm that encircled James and Al ducked under to join the hug. It lasted for a few short minutes, then Potter went about wiping James' and Al's face and passed a tissue to Teddy, who's face was blotched and tear-streaked, though he'd made a good show of not crying loudly.

"Now Teddy, James, I want you to apologise again to Mister Malfoy and _mean_ it." The two boys shuffled over and climbed onto the bed, which had Draco's hackles up immediately. He threw a look over their heads at Harry, who only smiled encouragingly. Then Draco was engulfed in a hug from either side and Teddy apologised, eyes downcast before James followed. At least they didn't kiss him like Al did. They clambered down once they were done and Draco thought it was finally over until he heard a plaintive, "Daddy!" and his lap was once again full, as Al threw his arms around his neck and whispered, "get better soon," before wordlessly begging his dad to pick him up again. Harry lifted him up but put him on the ground this time and made him walk with his hand in Harry's. Harry held out the other for James, and Teddy took James' free hand.

"Now say good bye," Pottered urged them.

"Bye, Mister Malfoy," they chorused to varying degrees of success. Potter looked at them fondly then threw a smile at Draco before turning and leading the troupe back through the hospital. Draco was not nearly as sad to see him go as he'd been yesterday. Or at least that's what he told himself. He sank back into his pillows and pulled the box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans into his lap and opened the lid. Fingers hovering uncertainly above the little beans of doom.

The children had been loud, obnoxious and too spirited for a hospital room, but seeing them had made him think of Scorpius and he felt a lurch in his gut. He wanted to see him even more than he had before their visit. Maybe he'd ask Astoria to bring him next time, now that he had a way to communicate.

He found it somewhat ironic that Harry Potter had been the only one to offer a solution to his inability to vocalise his thoughts. He would have thought the medical staff would have at least provided him with some parchment and a quill and he began to wonder if they hadn't on purpose.

It was strange to think that the boy-who-wouldn't-spare-him-the-time-of-day was the same person who cared enough to want to help him now. But then again, Harry could be useful to have around... sometimes.

* * *

Harry woke some time past midnight from a burning sensation on his arm. The DA galleon, which he always wore was shining brightly in the gloom, enough that he had to squint as he reached for his glasses. The moment he picked it up off his arm, the burning ceased, but not before leaving a lovely circular red patch behind, he noticed with a wince. Harry thought maybe it had reacted differently to normal since he'd used a real galleon for Draco when all others were fakes. Harry pulled his wand from the holster he'd had made for his bed and yawned a careless _lumos_, so he could read the coin. The edge of the coin simply read, "URGENT, PLEASE ATTEND" which was a default setting for when someone was in trouble but didn't have the time to write their own personalised message.

"Kreacher," he called. Kreacher appeared with a crack, just outside the circle of light that his wand had cast and Harry lamented on Kreacher's penchant for the dramatic. They'd come to a certain level of ease and almost friendliness with one another, but that still didn't stop Harry from finding Kreacher a whole new level of creepy.

"What is Master Harry wanting at such an indecent hour of the morning?" Kreacher drawled at him.

Harry grimaced. "I have to step out for a bit, there's an emergency," he informed the house-elf even as he began haphazardly pulling on clothes. "Make sure the boys stay in their rooms. If they ask to use the toilet, then fine, but they're not to leave the house under any condition except if they're in mortal danger. If they complain about being hungry or thirsty, they can have water or milk and there's those chocolate wheat biscuits in the pantry - they're only allowed one each. Hopefully I won't be too long. If something happens here, contact me or Ginny. I don't expect there should be anything, but just in case."

"As Master Harry wishes," Kreacher said with a sneer, which was the closest he ever got to an actual smile.

Harry hopped his way onto the landing, struggling into his boots before making the trek downstairs to the kitchen where he could apparate without disturbing the boys.

The trip was less than a blur; he couldn't even remember the walk from the apparition point to the hospital. Before he even realised it, he was hurrying down the corridor that led to Malfoy's private room.

The door was open and from the hall, he could see Malfoy pace back and forth, twisting his fingers together until the knuckles turned white. Harry ran the last few steps. Draco looked up at the sound of his footsteps, eyes bright, feverish and desparate. He grabbed Harry's forearm with a trembling, clammy grip, nails biting brutally into his arm. Malfoy opened his mouth to speak and swore wordlessly when his throat betrayed him yet again.

"What's wrong, Malfoy? What's happened? Where's the whiteboard I got you? Write it down."

Draco released him and raced to his bedside. The fine tremors that had reverberated through his arms intensified, turning the task of removing the pen-lid into a great struggle and even then, he shook so badly that the letters that he managed to scrawl were unintelligible. Harry knew better than to offer his assistance, but that didn't stop him from desperately wanting to help. Malfoy gasped in silent agitation and threw the board and pen across the room. Harry watched on helplessly as Draco seemed to crumple. He raised his hands as if to shield his eyes as his chest heaved violently.

A thought struck Harry then and he whipped out his wand and approached Malfoy who was trapped so far in his own frustration that he failed to notice. Harry raised his wand to Draco's temple murmuring, "_pervium ex animus", _then brought the wand to his own temple. That caught Malfoy's attention and he regarded Harry with wide-eyed suspicion, cheeks wet, blotchy and red. He wasn't too sure if the spell had worked until Malfoy blinked widely in astonishment. _I can hear you!_ It was no more than a breath through Harry's mind and he moved closer, leaning his forehead against Malfoy's. Suddenly he could hear a dozen half-thoughts that wavered, rose and fell like the swelling of the tide.

"What happened?" _What happened?_ The words echoed confusingly around their heads and about the room. Harry pursed his lips; clearly it would be better not to speak aloud while the spell was active.

_My son's alone. Astoria is missing. She left him! At the manor. Gone to Italy. Left Scorpius alone. He's all by himself. That bitch just abandoned him! _Each thought overlapped and crowded the next and it took Harry a moment to piece through the scattered, noisy ramblings. Already he was feeling a headache forming at the base of his skull. When meaning finally sunk in, he withdrew far enough to look at Malfoy with incredulous eyes.

_That's unbelievable! _

_I'M NOT LYING! _That thought screeched through his head like nails scratching over a chalkboard, Draco's eyes alight with indignation.

Harry fought not to roll his eyes, but by the narrowing of Draco's gaze, he hadn't succeeded. _It's not that I don't believe you, I don't believe her! How could she do that to her own kid?_

_I don't think she really felt like Scorpius was hers..._ Draco took a shuddering breath and seemed to steady himself, but the wavering of his whispered thoughts belied his anxiety. _She is so very much divorced after this._

Harry stepped back and allowed Draco the privacy to think without an audience while his mind geared through his own thoughts. There must be something that he could do for Draco and his son. He knew what he wanted to do. Ron would have called him seven different kinds of idiot, he was sure. Hermione would have scolded him for snooping, _again_, but would equally have understood why Harry couldn't leave well enough alone in this case. It didn't take more than a moment to make his decision. Harry stepped forward, right into Malfoy's personal space and gently placed a hand at the back of Draco's neck, mindful of the bandages. Draco's entire body flinched at the contact and he pushed back instinctively before forcing himself to relax and allow Harry to guide their foreheads back together. No doubt anyone who chose to look in on them at that moment would think it was something entirely more intimate. Ruefully, Harry realised he should have tried not to think that at all when he noticed Malfoy's cheeks flush pink, even in the dim light that filtered from the hall.

_Do you have a safe word?_

_I- what?_

_A safe word between you and Scorpius, so that if you can't reach him, someone who knows the safe word can say it, and Scorpius will know to trust them._

_Oh, right, of course, yes, I do._

_What is it?_

_Why? _ Draco couldn't disguise the edge of suspicion in his thought. Harry sighed. Of course he couldn't expect Malfoy to trust him right off the bat, but things would be so much easier if that weren't the case.

_I'll get him for you and bring him here._

_You can't do that!_

_Why not? You don't want him to be alone, do you?_

_Well, no, but _why_ are you doing this for me?_

_Why shouldn't I?_ Harry let his bewilderment through. Surely anyone would act in the same situation, regardless of their feelings towards the parent, the child was innocent and vulnerable and never should have been left alone.

Draco pulled back to study his face and the wash of thoughts grew dimmer in Harry's mind. After some internal struggle, Malfoy nodded resolutely. _Weasel-king. _

Harry blinked curiously at Malfoy. _What?! Oh._ Then he snorted and Malfoy blushed profusely, averted his gaze as Harry's laughter broke past his lips.

_Ok, shut up already. Are you going to get him, then?_ Draco folded his arms against his chest, the sleeves of his pyjamas brushing the fabric of Harry's shirt.

_Of course, but what about the wards? _Harry asked quickly. Draco frowned for a moment before marching off towards the bed to rifle through the top draw of the bedside table. He produced a signet ring that was made from white gold, which gleamed softly under the weak light. The Malfoy family crest was pressed into the crown, roughly the size of a knut and the band glinted with square-cut emeralds set at regular intervals. If it hadn't been quite so obviously expensive, the ring could have been considered tacky; it resembled the toy rings like those won from a gum ball machine. Harry was glad that Draco was far enough away that he didn't catch that particular thought from him. Draco held it out for Harry to take, which he did as he drew closer to Malfoy. He could feel the power emanating from the ring as a solid weight in his palm and generations of owners had left their spiritual mark on it. It _felt_ ages old and it made Harry want to throw it as far away as possible. Instead, he tightened his grip and looked at Malfoy for an explanation.

_Anyone bearing this ring will easily pass as a Malfoy heir, the wards won't be a problem. The house elves may try to remove you, but if you show them the ring, they'll bend over backwards to help you._

_Won't they think I stole the ring?_

Malfoy shook his head, but surprisingly kept his face sneer-free. He truly must have been worried about his son to let the opportunity to lord Harry's ignorance over him pass by.

_This ring cannot be stolen or tricked from the Malfoy heir. It can only be given freely, without any coercion, magical or otherwise. If someone does somehow manage to pick it up without my consent, the ring emits a debilitating poison that is eventually fatal if it's not returned. The elves will trust you when they see it, but Scorpius won't. Not until he hears the safe words. _

Harry nodded his understanding and tried not to let show how affected he was that Malfoy had entrusted this ring, and his son's safety to him. He felt a sudden, strange rush of gratitude race through him and flood his chest warmly. The odd frown that stole over Malfoy's face seemed to indicate that he picked up the emotion, but thankfully not the wave of inarticulate thoughts that came with it. For stronger measure, Harry backed away to a safer distance before cancelling the spell with _Finite Incantatum. _"I'll come back as soon as I can. I'll look after him, I promise."

Draco opened his mouth as if to say something, then merely shook his head bemusedly before marching up to Harry and without fanfare pushed him out the door. Taking the hint, Harry wasted no time in racing to the apparition point and making the journey to Malfoy Manor - a place he'd hoped never to step foot in again, nor thought he'd ever have to.

Harry appeared just inside the wrought-iron gates, which he hadn't quite expected and had to reorient himself. The white gravel drive stretched ahead of him, ghostly blue in the moonlight. For a moment, Harry hesitated. There were so many bad memories here, hidden behind immaculately manicured lawns and lavishly dressed rooms, yet here he was, back at this place in the middle of the night and about to walk it's darkened halls again.

The sound of the gravel crunching beneath his feet was an odd comfort for Harry as he approached the manor. It seemed to grow ominously in size as he approached, looming over the front lawn and blocking out the moonlight. Harry tried to ease his nerves but couldn't help the feeling of dread despite the clear lack of imminent danger.

The trek from the gate to the doorstep seemed to take forever and it was almost a relief to be standing on the stoop and rapping the bronze knocker against the door. He could hear the sound echo from within, but wasn't left long to contemplate as a house-elf appeared to greet him, easing the door open a crack.

"Um, hi," Harry said by way of greeting, inwardly cringing at himself. "Malfoy...er, Lord Malfoy sent me to fetch Scorpius for him." The house-elf, a relatively young one wearing a clean and pressed grey pillowcase eyed him warily, offering him no acknowledgement except for the baleful stare. Harry reached into his pocket and retrieved the ring, holding it forward for the elf's inspection. "See? The seal of the Malfoy heir." The elf took a cautious step closer before inspecting the ring. The house elf grabbed Harry's hand, almost jerking him off his feet and taking a large inhale of his hand before nodding and releasing him. Harry supposed he'd just been checked for poison. Or at least he dearly hoped so.

"Sir is following this way," the elf announced with a minute smile, then turned and pushed the door wider for Harry.

The hall was not dark like he'd expected but lit by candles placed in wall-sconces around the room. It wasn't as he remembered it, which he was grateful for; he could almost pretend that he was in another place entirely.

As he trailed the elf through the house, he could sense, but not see the many changes that had transformed the manor from being a cold, isolated place to somewhere much warmer, more welcoming. The long heritage of the family was still on display as proudly as ever; heirlooms decorating the rooms and walkways, portraits of Malfoy's past gracing the walls. Most were snoozing in their armchairs, their snores echoing through the halls. Maybe it was the absence of the evil that had haunted it or maybe just the newly laid carpet and fresh curtains, but it eased Harry's nerves significantly.

The lights seemed to grow and fade with their passage, lighting the way as they twisted through the building, up the staircase and through another winding hall. Harry was hopelessly lost after the first turn and was glad for his small guide through the house.

It took Harry a moment to realise he'd passed the elf, so caught up in his examination of his surroundings and had to backtrack to the door the house elf was standing in front of patiently, hands clasped neatly behind him.

"Lofty is going to wake Master Scorpius. Who is Lofty announcing?" The elf asked distantly.

"Oh, Harry Potter," Harry replied, realising belatedly that he should have introduced himself when he'd first arrived if he wanted to be polite. Lofty's eyes grew comically wide and when he next spoke his voice came out sounding strangled, though he made a good show of being unaffected. Seems he wasn't unknown to the Malfoy house-elves. His fame still shocked him sometimes; for some reason, he'd assumed that the Malfoy Manor would be free from mention of his name.

"Harry Potter, sir, yes, sir. Please wait sir. Lofty will let Sir in when Master Scorpius is awake," Lofty offered him a bow, his nose nearly brushing the ground in a move painfully similar to something Dobby would have done, that Harry felt his smile falter for a moment. He nodded his understanding and patiently waited outside.

The door creaked open and Harry and had to do a double-take. He'd expected Lofty, but found himself faced with a mini-Draco in an old fashioned night-dress with frills at the cuffs and collars and hair more unruly than his own. Blue-grey eyes, red rimmed from crying stared out from underneath the curly mop of platinum hair. Scorpius eyed him with the same regard that Lofty had at first and didn't venture past the doorway.

"Hi Scorpius, your dad sent me to fetch you, he's really worried about you," Harry said with an open, friendly smile. Scorpius mouth was drawn into a pinched frown and he withdrew further, narrowing the gap between the door and frame so only one eye showed through a thin sliver. Harry held out the ring like he'd done with Lofty. "He gave me this, and he gave me some words, so you know I'm not a bad guy. He told me to tell you, Weasel-King."

Scorpius one eye widened disbelievingly and filled with tears. "...He sent you to get me? He's not mad?" The voice was small and lost sounding and Harry had to refrain from launching across the intervening space and wrapping the child in a hug, like he would have done with his own kids. Harry knelt down on one knee and nodded.

"He misses you very much and he's worried about you. He'll feel better when he knows you're okay and I'm sure your visit would help him heal faster," Harry offered encouragingly, holding out a hand to the boy. The door eased open a fraction more.

"He's ok?"

Harry nodded his response and finally Scorpius stepped out from his room and picked his way delicately across the carpet as if he was treading on eggshells. He placed his small hand in Harry's palm and now that his suspicions had been waylaid, stared wonderingly up at him in wide, innocent curiosity. Harry gently closed his fingers around Scorpius' hand and rose to his feet.

Scorpius stood by him quietly, chewing on a thumbnail absently. Before he could stop himself, he pulled the hand away from Scorpius teeth and raised his eyebrows at him. Scorpius blushed and pulled his hand back to his side, grabbing a fistful of his night-dress to stop himself from fussing. His toes dug into the carpet instead and Harry buried the indulgent smile that threatened to break across his face.

"We'd better get you in some warm clothes and shoes before we go, eh, Scorpius?" Harry asked. Letting Scorpius go barefoot and in his night gown to St Mungo's would not be advisable unless he wanted Draco to flay him alive. Scorpius nodded and ran back into his room, Lofty trailing him. It was another ten minutes before he reappeared dressed in dark slacks, white shirt, green vest and charcoal coat, a forest green scarf wrapped around his neck and shiny black shoes finishing off the outfit. The kid looked so well put-together, like a mini-adult that Harry felt scruffy and underdressed in comparison. He looked even more like his father now that Lofty had run a comb through his hair, though it still curled around his face cutely. Harry wondered if that came from his mother's side or if underneath all that hair product, Draco's hair had been the same. A clock chiming in the distance reminded Harry of where he was and what he was supposed to be doing.

Lofty re-appeared in the doorway with a satchel. "Some clothes for Master Scorpius," Lofty announced holding out the bag for Harry to take. Harry slung it over his shoulder with a word of thanks, grateful that Lofty had thought to pack an overnight bag for Scorpius.

"Is there anywhere inside the house to apparate from?" Harry asked as he adjusted the straps.

Lofty nodded, "follow me, Harry Potter, Sir." Harry offered his hand again to Scorpius, who took it without hesitation, his trust implicit. He had an easier time believing that Scorpius would remain suspicious, his easy acceptance ran counter to expectation. Then again, Scorpius looked about Al's age and probably hadn't developed his sense of caution yet. If He and Ginny hadn't kept such a keen eye on their children, Harry was certain that they'd have been carried off by now with the promise of candy. James had been the bigger worry of the three and sometimes still was; Al was rather more sensible than James and Teddy.

The trip to the balcony was, thankfully a short one, only a small walk down the hall.

"Thanks, Lofty," Harry said, surprising a smile from the elf. "Have you ever apparated before, Scorpius?"

Scorpius shook his head mutely.

"Okay. Can I pick you up? It'll be easier and safer for us to apparate that way, is that all right?" Scorpius held his hands up for Harry who settled him against his side like he so often did with Al and with a final goodbye to Lofty, they apparated to the point closest to the hospital.

"How was that?" Harry asked Scorpius once they'd stumbled to a halt. The young boy contemplated the question carefully.

"...Squishy," Scorpius replied after much deliberation. Harry snorted in amusement. Scorpius pointed to the ground and asked in a quiet voice, "put me down?"

"Ok, but keep a hold of my hand, Scorpius," Harry assented, letting the boy walk by his side. The boy was silent as they made the short distance down the street to the hospital. If it wasn't for the small hand in his, Harry could almost believe he was alone. He shot a look at the boy curiously. He'd rather expected someone like the Draco he'd first met in Madam Malkin's; chatty and obnoxious, not to mention spoiled. It surprised him how much Scorpius resembled Al - at least in temperament. Al had always been the quieter of his children but also more prone to worry than James, more cautious than Teddy and a little more introverted than all but two of his cousins.

Maybe Scorpius was just shy, Harry wondered, though as the journey continued on in unbroken silence but for the tread of their shoes against the cobbles, he was inclined to think that the boy was naturally taciturn. It wasn't till they were in the hospital proper and on the ward leading to Draco's room that the boy ventured a sound. In fact, he planted his feet solidly on the ground and stopped. Harry had to pause or drag Scorpius along behind him and he turned his head to favour him with a look of enquiry.

"He's not...He's not angry with me? He won't yell at me?"

Harry blinked. It hadn't occurred to him that Scorpius wouldn't know Draco's condition. "Um, I can safely promise you that there'll be no yelling. Didn't your mum tell you anything?"

Scorpius' brow crumpled with confusion. "I haven't seen mother in weeks," he replied. None of the mothers Harry knew would have ever left their child so long by themselves, yet the boy was so matter-of-fact about her absence. Clearly, she'd left the elves do her part of the parent and Harry, who'd had no opinion of Astoria either one way or the other was beginning to find himself disapproving of her. He didn't like the idea of a child being raised by elves when there were two perfectly capable human adults there to do it. House elves were good at cleaning, cooking, and even basic child care, but conversationalists they were not. Teachers, they were not. And though they may love their Masters, house elves would always maintain the distinction of rank between them, which made for awkward companionship at best.

Harry took a moment to gather his thoughts before explaining things to Scorpius. "You see...when your dad was hurt, the magic did something to him. Right now he can't use his voice but the doctors are working on fixing that, do you understand?"

Scorpius nodded but the worry didn't ease from his shoulders. His small fingers tightened convulsively in the circle of Harry's hand and the boy took a large steadying breath before nodding, his signal to continue down the hall. Another twist and several doors later and they were in front of the open door to Draco's room.

He stood silhouetted against the enchanted window, lit by silvery moonlight. His arms were wrapped tightly about himself as if warding off the cold, but Harry knew the room was kept at a moderate temperature. He cast a glance at Scorpius, whose lip was caught between his teeth. The boy returned his look with wide, solemn eyes. Harry smiled and squeezed his hand reassuringly before announcing their presence. Draco started at the rap of Harry's knuckles on the door frame. He let out a sharp breath, crossed the room in a blink of an eye and swooped up Scorpius, wrapping him tightly in his arms.

The scene should have been accompanied by exclamations of relief and it was strange thing to watch - as if someone had hit the mute button on a remote control. Then the sound of Scorpius sniffling slowly invaded the room, followed by the breathy, voiceless chuckle from Draco, who used the sleeve of his pyjama top to wipe Scorpius' face dry, eyes lit with pure adoration.

It was an expression that Harry found alien to that familiar, pointy face. It totally transformed him and Harry's gut did an odd little flip.

Draco carried Scorpius with him to the bed and found himself a comfortable spot. He kept Scorpius in his lap as he pulled up the sheets and arranged the pillows to his own satisfaction. It was like Harry had disappeared - probably the whole world had. He remembered holding James for the first time and that was how it had been for him - just Harry and the little pink lobster that was his first born and the most precious light in the world; it had been the same when Al had come along. It must have been how Malfoy felt, after the dread and worry he'd been suffering earlier; holding Scorpius again would have felt like holding him for the first time. Draco ran his hand comfortingly through Scorpius' pale locks as the young boy settled and - with a minimum of squirming - fell promptly back to sleep.

It wasn't till Scorpius had begun to softly drool into Draco's shoulder that he seemed to remember that he was in fact, not alone. He turned his gaze to Harry and stared, eyes clear, if a little red-rimmed. For once, Harry couldn't divine the intent of the look. Neither judging or completely disinterested, there was nothing accusatory or defensive in Draco's eyes and it left Harry wondering what he was meant to do. Malfoy spared a hand from the cradling hold of his son to gesture for Harry to approach the bed. He did so hesitantly, still feeling out-of-place and sat in the chair beside the bed. Draco gently grasped his wrist and squeezed momentarily. _Thank you._

It wasn't like when the spell had linked them. The gratitude was in every line of Draco's face and in the way he gripped Harry's wrist. But Harry could almost imagine that he heard the words out loud. He smiled in reply and turned his wrist in Malfoy's hand so he could return the gesture momentarily. Not in any event would he have thought Malfoy and he would ever reach an accord, but here they were, no ill-will or animosity between them. Malfoy released his hold and wrapped his arm back around his son, looking exhausted, but content. Harry decided to stay just until the two had fallen asleep; visiting hours had long since passed but he couldn't force himself to move just yet.


	3. Chapter 3

He couldn't recall drifting off to sleep, but he must have at some point. Scorpius had squirmed around during the night and was now lying flush against his side, held close by one of his arms. The other hand, Draco soon discovered, had gone numb from lack of circulation, due to the fact that some bespectacled git had found it a decent sort of pillow sometime throughout the night. When he attempted to pull his hand free, it became abundantly clear that Harry was in no humour to return it. His hand was grasped about Draco's and seemed determined to hold on.

Draco was caught between exasperation and laughter. He wanted desperately to rouse Potter with a snide remark or a simple scolding and immediately felt cheated by the affliction that plagued him. Draco reached over with his free hand and used the wild nest of hair to raise Potter's head, taking sadistic pleasure in pulling on the strands harder than necessary.

It was more effective than a bucket of cold water. Harry nearly sprung into wakefulness, eyes alert and scanning the room for danger. Draco snorted. Potter looked like nothing more than a rumpled kitten and about as dangerous as one. He blinked at Draco, from behind glasses that were knocked askew and smiled sheepishly at him.

"Morning," he greeted him, voice gravelly from sleep. Draco offered him a slight nod and then took stock of his surroundings. The enchanted window showed a mist covered moor, lit by the feeble grey of early morning. It he was any judge, he'd venture it to be a little before five in the morning. The ward was dim, just lit well enough to make your way without bumping into things. the hall outside seemed by contrast unnaturally bright and very much apart from the sheltered darkness of his room.

"He's a cute kid," Potter said suddenly, startling Draco a little. He turned to look at Harry, who was wiping his glasses on his jumper before replacing them and running his hands through his hair in a hopeless attempt at taming it into some semblance of order. Instead of smoothing, his hair seemed to almost bristle at the treatment and stood up at the back. As teenagers, it had been one of his pet hates; he'd even thought that Potter kept it that way on purpose because he was trying to appear cool, since it always looked as if he'd merely rolled out of bed. Draco itched to brush it. His son's hair, when not properly tended worked it's way into curly knots and he'd made certain that it be brushed and groomed as often as necessary.

"He's much quieter than I'd expected," Harry continued, stretching his spine with an accompanying series of pops that made Draco wince in sympathy. Sleeping hunched over a bed was not a comfortable position to be in, he knew. "Scorpius reminds me a bit of Al, actually, well, obviously not looks wise, but temperament maybe."

Draco snorted. He'd met Harry's kids and he'd not seen any resemblance, looks or otherwise.

"Wha- Mister Potter, what are you doing here at this godawful hour - and who's this?" The loud and boisterous voice of the head nurse was like a foghorn in the serenity of the room. Scorpius who like his father could sleep through earthquakes, shifted groggily. At first glance Draco thought for a moment it was Mrs Weasley, who he'd seen on a handful occasions but the likeness ended at the roundness of her figure. She was an imposing woman, built on the lines of the Valkyrie, large of bust, wide at the hips and with a personality large enough to fill the room.

"Hi Mary," Harry greeted her sweetly - the best impression of a good-son if ever Draco saw it. "This is Scorpius, Draco's son. He was alone at home and Draco was worried. I meant to leave after I'd brought him over by I must have dozed off," Harry said by way of explanation.

Mary favoured him with a look of reproach that wobbled at the edges - mouth fighting not to smile. It was a lost battle when Scorpius awoke fully and stretched with a yawn. He surveyed the room owlishly and when he spotted this new person, shrunk against Draco's side, earning a hoot of delight from the nurse in the manner of all women of a certain age upon first meeting his son.

"He's adorable!" she cooed, before she could help herself. Remembering where she was, Mary cleared her throat abruptly and turned back to Potter, her face set in the harried look of professional nurses everywhere who need to get an unfavourable job done. "Cute as he may be, Mister Potter, Mr Malfoy, he can't stay here; visiting hours are not for another...four hours and we don't have the facilities to care for a child who isn't even sick. There are too many beds filled in paediatrics as it is, we don't have room for the healthy ones," She admonished, wagging a finger at the three of them.

"Couldn't we set up a small cot in here, Mary?" Harry wheedled. She seemed on the verge of giving in, but managed to rally, straightening her spine and steeling her expression.

"I'm afraid it's against the policy of St Mungo's, Harry...I'm sorry," Mary replied and to her credit, she did appear to be genuinely apologetic.

Harry met Draco's gaze with a slightly pained expression.

"I can take him, if you like. It'll only be for a couple of days until you're released and he'd be no trouble, unless there's someone you'd prefer to take him? I can contact them for you? It's your choice."

Draco couldn't think of anyone he'd trust with Scorpius. If his Mother were in the country, he would have asked her. However, the last time they'd spoken she'd been on holiday in Majorca, soaking up the sun and having a romantic fling with a Spanish wizard who owned a luxury cruise liner. He didn't even know where she was to get a hold of her - she had contacted him. He could send her an owl, but it might take days to get there. Draco ran through the names of the people he knew and the people he trusted. The list of people he actually trusted was alarmingly short. He contemplated asking Blaize Zabini, but that man had ideas about the worth of favours and he liked to extract repayment in some of the most alarming and inventive ways possible. Pansy and Theo were at a stage in life where children played no part. On top of that, Pansy had the patience of a flea and Theo couldn't relate to anyone under the age of thirty. It was a wonder he was able to stand Pansy, who was the first to admit that she wasn't the most mature of people.

Draco turned to regard Harry with a frown. Harry had kids of his own, he'd seemed fairly adept at wrangling them, too. Plus, unlike some of his friends, he wouldn't ask for a price, noble idiot that he was. It _would_ only be for two days at most and it might be good for Scorpius to associate with children his own age. Draco sighed. Regardless of the fact that Harry wouldn't ask for a favour in return, Draco hated being indebted to him. It was bad enough that there was the lingering shadow of the life-debt hanging over them but at this point he didn't see what other choice he had in the matter.

Draco nodded reluctantly and was rewarded with a smile that sent a warm flush up his neck and caused his stomach do a mini-backflip. He averted his eyes and looked instead at his son, who was the picture of uncertainty, small mouth drawn into a frown. Draco grinned at his boy and only wished for the voice to reassure him.

He cast a look at Harry, lifted his eyebrows and tilted his head towards his son. Harry nodded and turned to address Scorpius.

"I'm sorry, Scorpius, but we're going to have to leave your Dad for a little bit," Harry said softly. Scorpius' eyes widened in alarm and he shook his head, looking up at Draco, whose heart nearly broke at the sight of his son's eyes filled with tears.

"I don't want to leave, I want to stay with Daddy!"

"I'm afraid you can't, Scorpius, it's against the rules." At that tears spilled down this son's cheek and he turned to press his face into Draco's chest. Draco wrapped his arms about him and sighed. He hadn't actually anticipated any resistance on this particular front. But then Scorpius had never been away from him for longer than a day until this most recent incident.

Harry leant forward in his chair and placed a tentative hand on Scorpius' shoulder. He left it there until Scorpius turned to treat him with an accusatory, teary stare. "Your dad will be here until tomorrow. In the meantime your Dad wants you to stay at my place, okay?"

"Why can't I just go home?" Scorpius whined.

"Don't you get lonely there, all by yourself?" Harry responded. Scorpius refused to respond and Harry tried a different tack. "My house..." he started faltingly, clearly struggling to find the right words. "It's at twelve Grimmauld Place. have you heard of it?"

Scorpius tensed against Draco, then shifted to give Harry more of his attention. "No," he murmured.

"Now, I inherited that place from my godfather, Sirius Black, he's related to your Grandma, cousins in fact. Did you know your Grandma used to visit there, when she was a little girl?"

"Really?" Scorpius was slowly being drawn in, his tears drying up. Harry smiled and nodded, Scorpius' mouth twitched, wanting to return the grin.

"Yup, really. In one of the sitting rooms, there's this _huuuge _tapestry with all the members of the Black family on it going back...god, I don't know how many generations but you know what?"

"What?"

"Your Grandma's name is on it. And, when you were born, your name was added to the tapestry," Harry finished in a whisper, leaning close. Scorpius gasped in surprised delight.

"Really? No! My name's Scorpius Malfoy. Malfoy!"

"It's really there, as is your cousin's," Harry continued.

"Cousin? What cousin, Daddy, do I have a cousin?" Scorpius turned wide eyes on him. Draco nodded his head and when Scorpius turned back to Harry, he shot the man a questioning look. Hell if he knew where Harry was going with this. "What's his name?" Scorpius asked, as he reached out and grabbed Harry's forearm excitedly.

"Teddy Lupin."

"But he's not a Black, either!" Scorpius objected, clearly finding the flaw in Harry's story.

"Ah, but his name is there, just the same," Harry countered. He looked up at Draco with an apologetic expression - Merlin only knew why and then continued his discussion with the six-year-old. "Actually...did you want to meet your cousin? He has this amazing trick where he can turn his hair any colour he wants!"

"No way! How does he do it?" Scorpius was now kneeling, knees digging into Draco's thigh uncomfortably.

"He's a metamorphmagus. And when he's had enough practice and worked _really_ hard, one day he'll even be able to change his face to look like anyone's - without using a potion."

Scorpius was bouncing on the spot, clearly torn between returning to the manor and meeting his amazing cousin. Draco bore with the abuse he suffered under Scorpius' bony knees, gritting his teeth with each bounce. He shared a look with Mary, who'd been a silent, rather amused witness to the whole thing. She responded with a tight smile but was clearly impatient for things to be resolved. She had her work to get on with and she must have wanted to ensure that Harry didn't just magic a cot into the room and bugger off.

"Teddy's staying with me at the moment and I bet he'd love to meet you," Harry coaxed. "And you know...it's Sunday and at my house, Sunday means pancakes, maple syrup and cream for breakfast." Even Draco's mouth pooled with saliva at that. It was one of the many things he and Scorpius had in common - a love of all things sweet and sugary.

The final pillar of Scorpius' resolve collapsed and in a meek voice he asked his father if it was okay to go. Draco nodded, yes it was okay, then he pulled his son into a brief hug, kissed his forehead and waved him off.

"Send us an owl when you're about to be released and we can come and meet you here, if you like," Harry offered as he picked up Scorpius' overnight bag from the floor, shouldering it. He reached out a hand to Scorpius who took it without hesitation, his other hand going to his mouth, thumb first. Harry automatically knocked it gently aside and spared a look at Scorpius, who blushed and shuffled on the spot in embarrassment. It was such a natural exchange - a brief flare of jealousy curled in Draco's stomach. At least, he thought it was jealousy; he couldn't imagine what else the sensation could mean.

Then they were leaving and Mary was fluffing his pillows and Draco continued to watch the door, now at a total loss with what to do with himself. Once Mary had left, he lay back with a faltering breath and shut eyes that pricked uncomfortably. Draco would have given anything to go with his son; he had to admit to a level of curiosity about Harry's home - it was part of his own history after all. Mainly he just wanted to get out of the hospital. He felt miles better than he had yesterday and seeing his son had been good for him; a level of anxiety had lifted from his shoulders with the knowledge that his boy was fine.

Draco settled himself more comfortably and urged his limbs to relax. It was still far too early to be awake and the time would pass faster if he slept through as much of the day as he could. He let out a jaw-cracking yawn, his eyelids already heavy and hoped the time would fly past. With a little more squirming and a couple more yawns, he finally succumbed to sleep and dreamed of a house built of pancakes and his son, swimming in a pool of maple syrup with Potter and his horde, waving at him to join.

* * *

When Harry returned with the young Master Malfoy in tow, the boys were thankfully still asleep and the house had not caught fire, which Harry counted as a bonus.

He apparated them back to the kitchen, which was cold and quiet, the light that filtered in a soft grey that was turning pink at the edges. Scorpius was looking around apprehensively and with good reason. The kitchen would never be an entirely welcoming place no matter how colourful the drapes were or how many vases of flowers Harry brought in. It would always be made from fire-blackened bricks and slate tiles, which even with the full sun shining through each window, still managed to make the room dark and imposing. A rack hung from the ceiling, pots and pans dangling from hooks, a hardwood table with six chairs stood in the centre of the room, occupying the majority of the floor space. The stove was a wrought-iron monstrosity, wood-fired. The handles on the cabinets were decorative iron affairs, as black and ancient as the stove. The few modern conveniences Harry had brought in stuck out like crooked nails. The stainless steel fridge had taken some doing; he'd had to enlist the help of Arthur and George Weasley to make it workable in such a highly magical environment. It was crammed into the recess beside the pantry and dominated that corner of the room like a lord over its subjects. A microwave was tucked into a corner of the workbenches as if ashamed of its muggle heritage and the sink, which had been centuries old was now out the back acting as a planter; it's new stainless steel replacement sitting smugly under the window, all shiny and modern. Harry lit the hearth with a flick of his wand, the warmth and light spilling into the room as slow as treacle.

"Would you like tea, hot chocolate, warm milk, glass of pumpkin juice?" Harry asked his guest as he studied the contents of his fridge.

"Tea please."

"Let me guess, you like it milky with two sugars."

"How'd you know?" Scorpius asked with a wondering expression. The boy pulled himself up into a chair and watched as Harry moved about the kitchen, setting the kettle to boil and retrieving tea leaves from the pantry.

Harry shrugged. "When we were at Hogwart's together, it's how your father took it. Does he still drink it that way?"

"He drinks it black with lemon juice and honey. I think it's gross."

"Ah, but lemon and honey is good for you," Harry replied absently as he measured out two teaspoons of leaves into the strainer. Normally, he'd make do with Tetley tea bags, but he supposed Scorpius would not find it so palatable. Hermione had surprised him by being a total snob when it came to tea, so he always made sure he had some Irish Breakfast - her preferred blend - in stock, kept fresh with preserving charms.

"Why are you making the tea? Don't you have a house elf?"

Harry dusted off his hands and turned to face Scorpius, resting his hip against the counter by the stove as he waited for the kettle to boil. "I do, but Sunday morning is the one day a week that I insist on doing the breakfast. It's nice to be able to do something with your own two hands every now and again, don't you think?"

"I don't know," Scorpius replied, his brow creased and a frown turning the corners of his mouth down. The kettle clicked and Harry poured the boiled water into the teapot, allowed it to steep for three minutes before pouring it out for Scorpius and placing it in front of him in a mug that James had bought him for Father's Day one year - it had Snitches painted on the outside and when the mug was full and hot, the Snitches came to life and darted across the porcelain. The boy looked at it askance and for a moment Harry worried if he should have instead used the fine china he had tucked away somewhere in the back of the cupboard. But no, after a moment of deliberation, Scorpius took a tentative sip at the tea, as if wary of the drink made not by elf, but human hands. His face lit with pleasant surprise as he swallowed and took a larger sip, settling the cup between his hands and breathing in the aromatic steam with a contented smile. "At home, the house elves do all the cooking and they make the tea and do all the chores."

Harry couldn't say that he was surprised; the Malfoy's were an old family and the house-elves had probably been with them for generations. He wondered if any Malfoy - powerful, influential, intelligent and cunning - knew how to wash their own socks. He hoped Draco wouldn't mind that he was about to give Scorpius a lesson in domesticity.

"Well, how about you help me make the pancakes?" Harry asked as he poured his own cup of tea - milk, no sugar.

Scorpius looked alarmed. "But I can't do magic!" he quailed. Harry laughed.

"You don't need magic, silly-billy," Harry explained, ruffling Scorpius' hair fondly, much to the boy's dismay. Scorpius tried frantically to lay his hair back into a more ordered position and offered Harry a sour, un-amused glare. "Pancakes always taste better when you make 'em by hand, anyway. And since you're not old enough to do magic yet, it's something that you can do for someone else as a present."

"Presents are _things_ that you give people," Scorpius argued still looking a little cross from have his hair messed up. Harry responded to his statement with a shake of his head and a sigh. He pulled out a chair beside the boy, sitting so he could face him at eye level.

"The most precious gift you can give a person is not the biggest diamond, or the best racing broom, or a new set of dress robes or anything like it. Although those things are nice, they are just that - things. Do you know what the most precious gift is?" At Scorpius' shake of the head, Harry continued. "The most precious gift that you could ever hope to give someone is your time, your love and your attention and it's little acts of kindness, like making someone a cup of tea when they're feeling a little anxious, that make people's hearts lighter."

Scorpius turned his gaze to the half-empty cup between his fingers, head bowed in thought. His eyes skated around the kitchen, which had brightened with the rising sun and the flames that had built into a merry, crackling fire taking the edge off the austerity of the room. He turned back to Harry. He nodded his head in understanding, though he still looked a little unsure.

"Come on, kiddo, it'll be fun!"

"...Okay," Scorpius agreed and slid from his chair. Harry fetched the step that Kreacher used to see above the counter and placed it next to him for Scorpius then pulled from the pantry self-raising flour, brown sugar, vanilla essence and a couple of eggs. He lined them up along the counter, retrieved the milk from the fridge and placed that next to the other ingredients. He lit the stove after a couple of false starts and reached up to unhook the fry pan, which he placed to heat on the stove top.

From the counter cupboard next to Scorpius, he pulled out the big metal mixing bowl, a measuring jug and a sieve. From the drawer above that, found the battered, old hand whisk, a teaspoon and a butter knife. Scorpius looked at everything with wide, nervous eyes. His owlish expression made Harry want to laugh, though he kept it to himself, smiling instead.

"So, first things first, we need two cups of flour, sieved. I'll show you," Harry measured out one cup of flour, checking the level against the marks of his measuring cup, then tipped it gradually through the sieve and into the mixing bowl, shaking any lumps apart. "Now you try," he said, pushing the bag of flour and measuring cup towards Scorpius. "Fill the cup up to this line, here."

The boy took it warily, eyes constantly returning to Harry's face as if looking for some sign that he was doing it wrong. Harry responded with an encouraging smile and a nod of his head. Scorpius tipped the bag of flour into the measuring cup bit by bit and mimicked Harry, bending down to check the level against the marks on the jug.

"That's it, now pour it through the sieve," Harry instructed. "This helps to get rid of any clumps, so your pancakes don't come out lumpy." With the flour done, Harry tapped the bowl so the contents levelled out and handed the sugar bowl to Scorpius. "Now we need two or three tablespoons of sugar, okay? And you just sieve it like we did with the flour."

Harry took Scorpius all the way through making the batter, only intervening if it looked like Scorpius was about to spill the contents of the bowl. The boy had somehow acquired a swipe of flour across his nose and his fine clothes were dusted with it. His sleeves were splattered with batter from when he'd been mixing. Harry winced when he noticed that. It probably would have been wise to give him a smock to wear. It'd wash out, though, and it was unlikely to stain.

He took over when it came time to pour the mix into the pan, but he showed Scorpius how to do it. "When you start to see bubbles forming, that means it's almost time to flip them. I like to wait until the batter loses it's glossy appearance on top and looks more firm, see?. That way you get a more even colour. and it's less likely to run when you flip it, so you get a nice shape. Took me years to get it right. Half the time they ended up folding over themselves or splattering the pan. Still tasted just fine, but the boys wouldn't ever touch them."

"Boys?" Scorpius asked, eyes never leaving Harry's hands as he flipped the pancake, the pan sizzling happily.

"Yeah, my boys. I have two sons, well, three, when you count Teddy, my godson. Teddy is ten - next year he'll be off to Hogwarts. My eldest, James, is nine and my youngest is just turned six. You're six, aren't you, Scorpius?"

"Six years and three months old!" Scorpius corrected. Harry chuckled. Once James had learned to count, he would count his age by years, and months and would be ever so cross when you forgot to add 'and x days'. He'd thankfully grown out of that habit sometime last year. Harry removed the pancake from the pan and this time let Scorpius pour the next one, keeping a watchful eye on him, hand's free in case Scorpius slipped or got too close to the stove. The batter he'd poured took the shape of a butternut pumpkin and Scorpius cried out in bewildered disappointment, that it didn't come out round like the rest. Harry gave him a brief, reassuring pat on the shoulder before returning to his cooking duties.

"You'll get to meet them in a couple of minutes. I'm sure they've smelled the pancakes by now, so they should be along shortly," Harry said conversationally though had to turn and make sure Scorpius was still there. He'd fallen silent at the mention of the impending greeting and his skin was looking a little paler than his natural complexion. "Don't worry, Scorpius, they'll like you for sure. They're good boys, too...mostly. There's no need to be shy."

Scorpius nodded, but didn't look convinced. Once the batter was no more than a smear in the bottom of the bowl, Harry set the pancakes in the middle of the table with a warming spell and retrieved plates, cups and cutlery from their hiding places. He fetched the maple syrup from the pantry, cream, butter, jam and strawberries from the fridge and laid them out on the table. The cream he had to whip first, though. He could hear the boys tramping down the stairs, footsteps racing eagerly down each step accompanied by excited laughter. He had to concede on his 'no magic' policy and use a quick spell to whip the cream before the boys burst in and devoured the lot.

When they did appear, fighting to fit through the doorway all at once, they froze and he felt Scorpius draw close to him, a small hand clutching at his sleeve.

"Morning, little monsters," Harry greeted them fondly. They disentangled and shuffled in, looking with curiosity at the little blond in their midst. "Boys, this is Scorpius, he'll be staying with us while his Dad is in hospital. Teddy, Scorpius is your distant cousin, come and say hello."

Teddy approached after a moment's hesitation. Scorpius shifted even closer to Harry, but otherwise held his ground. Teddy looked the boy up and down, studied his hair, his eyes, nose and mouth, looked at his small hand still clutched in Harry's sleeve and gave his little gentleman's outfit - now covered in flour and batter - a once over. Then all of a sudden his hair, which had been Weasley red turned platinum and curly and his eyes glinted to match Scorpius'. Teddy smiled brilliantly at Scorpius' exclamation of surprise and wonder. The way Teddy looked now, the two could have been brother's.

"Hey Scorpius," Teddy greeted casually, hands in pockets. Scorpius replied with a meek, "Hi," and then James, never one to be long outdone by Teddy, came up and offered his hand to shake, which seemed to settle Scorpius a little, who returned the handshake with the air of someone more used to this form of greeting. Al, though, was looking at Harry and his eyes were full of reproach.

"Come on, Al, say hello to Scorpius," Harry goaded.

Al spared the blond a brief look, said a short, "Hi," and took his chair, refusing to meet anyone's eye, staring fixedly at a point on the wall, arms crossed against his chest. Oh god. Harry had anticipated trouble from James, not Al. He looked at Scorpius whose eyes were starting to tear and sent him a reassuring smile. He'd sort it out once the boys had been fed.

"Ok, enough standing around, let's eat." James and Teddy were halfway in their chairs before he'd even finished speaking. Scorpius took the seat next to Al - the one he'd been sitting in earlier and Harry watch Al stiffen, his mouth clamped shut. Maybe Al hadn't slept right. He could be an absolute horror when he was cranky and it was always worse with him because he was usually such a placid child that it came as unexpected. James was a moody little thing, so with him it was just par for the course and he'd learnt how to deal with him.

Harry dished out the pancakes, two for each of them, leaving the rest on the plate in the middle of the table. The condiments were a free for all and he was content to let the boy's squabble over the cream and jam. He poured himself orange juice, then had to go back to the fridge as the boys called out requests for drinks then changed their minds only after he'd shut the fridge door. He ended up just grabbing each bottle of juice, the milk, and water and leaving it on the table for them to take as needed. He loved Sunday morning breakfast, but he always felt like a nap afterwards - it was entirely too draining, especially when he'd had little to no sleep and a stiff back from the way he'd been hunched over the hospital bed last night.

Thankfully, Teddy was full of questions for Scorpius and even James ventured a few his own; how old are you, where do you live, do you have any pets, have you ever met a dragon, etc., etc. Despite his best efforts Al couldn't help but be curious but he feigned disinterest magnificently, though Harry wasn't fooled. Scorpius had some questions of his own, though he asked far less than he clearly wanted to know, still shy and unsure. Harry let them chatter away and used their distraction to pour himself a cup of coffee.

As he was about to sit, the fire burned green and Hermione's face appeared in the flames.

"Harry?"

He got down on his knees in front of the fire and smiled tiredly at Hermione. "Morning 'Mione, what's up?" Hermione gave him a tight smile then grimaced.

"George's gone and done something to Ron _again_. I have to take him to St Mungo's. I was hoping you could take the kids for a couple of hours? I know you have your hands full, but Molly and Arthur are in the Lakes District at the moment and I didn't want to bother them on their holiday," Hermione said. She looked as tired as Harry felt and he considered for a millisecond refusing, but caved.

"That's fine, it'll be like a party. Send them on through," Harry replied weakly.

"Thank you, Harry, you're a lifesaver! If you hadn't said yes, I would have had to ask Angelina and their kids are worse than their dad. I would have ended up with two more people to visit at the hospital."

"You owe me," Harry warned.

"Yes, yes, I know," Hermione waved it off negligently before disappearing from the flames, then there was a roaring sound, the flames shot up and two figures appeared coughing up ash as they stepped from the fireplace. Rose stood dusting off Hugo's back and they greeted him with a "Hi, Uncle Harry," then their attention was caught by the spread on the table and Hugo's mouth fell open, lips wet with saliva. Rose managed to greet the boys who gave her varying renditions of 'hello' around mouthfuls of food. Scorpius looked torn between sinking into his seat to hide or sitting up straight and greeting the new arrivals with dignity. Sinking into his chair won out when Rose eyed him curiously, Hugo hadn't yet seen past the pile of pancakes that was swiftly dwindling and was already climbing into a spare chair. Harry _accio'd _two more plates and cups and gave up his seat so Rose could take his place.

The fire was still burning green so Harry turned even as Hermione's face reappeared in the flames "Thanks again, Harry, I'll let you know how Ron is in a bit."

"Cheers," Harry replied. He'd sorely like to know what experimental product George had somehow coerced Ron into trying this time. It should make for an interesting conversation. After a quick good bye, Hermione's face disappeared and the fire returned to normal.

"Hugo, Rose," He called, gaining their attention. "This here is Scorpius, he's a guest here today, so I want you to treat him nicely. His dad's in hospital too at the moment, so he's staying with us until his dad's released."

"Hi, Scorpius," They chorused. Scorpius blushed under Rose's smile and if anything, Al looked even angrier than he had when he'd first sat down.

Harry leaned against the bench and surveyed his kitchen. Anyone would be mistaken for thinking he ran a child care centre. With this many children underfoot, there was simply no way that he'd be able to take that mid-morning nap now. Rose was the most sensible of the bunch, and no doubt she'd keep a good handle on the boys, but Teddy was older and the others tended to follow his lead. Any good that Rose would do as peacekeeper would likely be undone by his influence. Better he keep an eye on them and sort out any scraps before they escalate.

Kreacher appeared as the last scraps were being pushed around plates and cups sat empty. He only ever showed up around the time they were about finished on Sunday mornings. Harry wondered whether it was some kind of silent protest; Kreacher hadn't liked the idea of not serving breakfast. It was bad enough that Harry insisted on cooking dinner on the weekends, Kreacher seemed to think that it was an insult to his cooking and sulked for six months until he'd got used to the situation. The truth was Kreacher actually cooked a decent meal, it was just that Harry preferred to cook the meals he ate with the boys. During the week, Harry ate whatever Kreacher put in front of him.

Once each child had scraped any leftovers into the bin and placed their plate and cup by the sink, he went through the ritual of sending his boys up to brush their teeth with the usual amount of difficulty and fuss. Scorpius had retrieved his toothbrush from his overnight bag the moment Harry had made mention of it and was waiting uncertainly by the door. After dragging their feet to the point where Harry was about ready to lose his patience in a spectacular fashion, the boys finally headed upstairs and Harry was silently grateful when Teddy grabbed the young Malfoy by the hand and led him towards the bathroom. Hugo and Rose weren't required to follow suit - with having a dentist for a Grandfather, there was little doubt that they'd already brushed this morning. Harry took several deep breaths to calm himself before he turned to his niece and nephew and asked them questions about their holidays. Hugo regaled him with tales of clearing out gnomes from Grandma Molly's garden and was getting to the climax of his story when they were interrupted by a thud and a yelp from upstairs, followed by a lot of shouting and more thuds.

Harry was halfway up the stairs before he'd even registered it and pushing the bathroom door open a moment later to find his boys frozen at his entrance. Teddy was pressed against the wall, his hair blazing like a fiery beacon and his irises had all but turned black. He was being pinned in place by James, who was holding him there using his whole body, back fit against Teddy's chest. He had Teddy's left arm held in a white knuckled grip around his waist, Teddy's right arm reaching claw-like over James' shoulder. Al was standing in front of them both, his hair dishevelled and a red hand-print darkening his cheek. His shirt was bunched and stretched at the front and he was staring at Teddy with belligerent eyes. Harry took it all in within a second and only had to wonder for a moment what had happened to Scorpius when he was alerted by the sob and found the boy lying awkwardly in the bathtub beside the sink blood running from a wound on his head.

"What. Happened." Harry growled and all the boy's flinched. Al had the good grace to look ashamed and James was able to relax when he felt Teddy settle behind him. He let go of Teddy's arm and stepped away, straightening his shirt. He looked between his brothers and neither were looking at each other or at Harry and both seemed disinclined to talk. He sighed wearily and looked at his father. Harry raised an eyebrow at him.

"We were just joking around with Al, and he got angry and pushed Scorpius over and Teddy got angry and hit Al and he was going to keep hitting him so I stopped him," James said in a rush. What Harry took from it, was they were most likely teasing Al. It didn't excuse anything.

"Go wait in your rooms. Your separate rooms." They each had their own, but usually ended up staying in Teddy's with mattresses laid out on the floor. He didn't want any of them deciding on a new version of events but more he wanted to keep Teddy and Al apart until they'd both settled down. "I'm going to have a look at Scorpius and then we're all going to have a chat. Go, now."

"But-"

"_Not another word_, Albus Severus Potter! I won't hear another word out of you until you've had time to reflect on what you've done," Harry snapped, his voice brooking no argument. The boy's fled, their feet thumping along the hall and he listened for the successive thud of three doors snapping shut. He turned to Scorpius and immediately pulled him from the tub and knelt to check the head wound. Scorpius had tears coursing down his face, his breath hiccuping as he tried to muffle his sobs.

Harry got a face cloth, wet and wrung it out and tilted Scorpius' chin up with his spare hand. "Look here, Scorpius." Harry used the cloth to dab at the blood that was streaked over his left brow and his cheek. When he cleaned off the majority of the blood, he found the source, a small slice that ran vertically through his eyebrow, about 15mm long. It was amazing how such a small wound could bleed so much, but that was how head wounds usually were; he could personally attest to that.

"Why it's barely a scrape," he announced and grinned encouragingly at Scorpius.

The boy's chin wobbled and fresh tears spilled down his cheeks. "I-it- h-hurts!" Scorpius cried, wiping his nose on his sleeve. His frown caused the slice to gap and fresh blood welled thickly from the cut. Harry quickly grabbed a tissue, wadded it up and pressed it to the wound. He took hold of Scorpius' hand, placing it over the tissue.

"Here, hold this in place and keep pressing on it. It should slow down the bleeding." Harry reached over and opened the cupboard, retrieving the first aid kit he kept. He pulled out the tweezers, disinfectant and cotton balls. He could have used his wand to heal the cut, but he'd not practised his healing as much as his other spells. Part of him also felt that such a little wound should have the chance to heal naturally. Plus, if you weren't adept at healing, using magic had the tendency to leave scars. Draco would no doubt castrate him if he scarred his little boy's face. He did settle a cooling charm on Scorpius' brow to soothe the swelling and once he'd finished treating the wound, he would do something about the bruise that was forming. He must have hit his head pretty hard; the skin was already turning purple from the impact.

"Move the tissue out of the way, so I can disinfect the cut, please. This might sting a little, Scorpius but it will help to clean the wound so it doesn't go bad and scar, okay?" Harry warned. Scorpius nodded stoically and did as asked, biting his lip in anticipation as Harry approached with the disinfectant-soaked cotton ball. He hissed as it brushed over the open wound but held still. "There's a good boy," Harry murmured absently.

Once done with that, he threw the cotton ball in the bin and turned back to the first aid kit. He dug out the tube of Savlon and the cotton buds, coating the head of one evenly and applying it to the cut.

"It's cold," Scorpius hissed with surprise.

"This stuff is better than magic," Harry replied with a warm smile. Scorpius looked at him sceptically from a pair of puffy, reddened eyes; at least he'd stopped crying.

Harry had relied on Savlon as a child growing up with the Dursley's. Not that they were overly violent with him - except when Dudley was showing off to his friends and pushing him about or Vernon had smacked him for his 'oddness'. But he'd constantly been running into things and tripping, or catching himself on the pavement until they finally relented and got him a pair of glasses from the hospital optician. He had on occasion burnt himself on the frying pan or baking tray when he had to cook and during those times he was forced to do the weeding, he found himself often catching his skin on rose thorns. He'd learned to dress his own wounds early on and there was nothing so effective at speeding up the healing process than Savlon.

Next came steri-strips; Harry cut two out, about 2cm long, pinched the wound closed and applied them tightly to keep the cut from gaping, crossing one diagonally over the other. It may have been a bit of overkill, but he reasoned it was better safe than sorry. Harry finished it with a band-aid, which he trimmed so it wouldn't get in the way of Scorpius' eyelid. Once that was sorted, he cast a small charm to heal the bruise and put away the first aid kit.

"There, all done," Harry announced as he sat back on his heels. "You were very brave."

Scorpius blushed and shuffled his feet at the praise.

"Is that your first big injury?" Harry asked. Scorpius nodded. "Well, I'm sorry that it happened while you were here. Can you tell me what went on earlier?"

Scorpius hesitated for a long moment before replying. "...Teddy and James were telling Al that, that I was... that you...liked me better than Al and that Al would have to live in the attic because I'd be getting his room. Al was getting angry and I tried to tell him that I was going home tomorrow but he yelled at me to shut up and he pushed me." Fresh tears started leaking from his eyes and he sniffled pathetically. "Th-then I h-hit my head and it hurt and I couldn't get up and then there was blood!" His story ended in a small choked voice and Harry reached forward and pulled Scorpius into a hug, shushing him and rubbing his back gently.

Little arms wrapped around his neck, Scorpius buried his head against Harry's collarbone, muffling his sobs and dampening Harry's shirt. "It's okay Scorpius, shhh..." Harry sighed tiredly. He really hoped Draco didn't flip out when he found out about the incident. He was getting kind of attached to them both and he'd hate to be on bad terms with them after they had been getting on as remarkably well as they had.

"H-he h-h-hates me!" Scorpius cried.

"Oh, oh no. No, he doesn't. He doesn't hate you, Scorpius, honestly," Harry insisted, pulling back so he could look at the little boy. He reached out for the tissues and wiped the tears from his face. He grabbed another and held it to Scorpius nose. "Blow," instructed. Scorpius did as he was told and Harry wiped his nose and handed him a fresh tissue, throwing the others in the bin. "Al was just feeling a little jealous and he was probably worried that the other boys were right. I'm sure he didn't mean to hurt you and I bet he's really sorry about it now. Let me go an talk to him, okay? Why don't you go and find Rose and Hugo. They can show you around the house if you like or you can go and play with them in the backyard? We've got a mini-quidditch pitch set up out there. It's not much, just some hoops at either end and we don't have any bludgers, but there's a quaffle and the rules are otherwise the same except you'll be on foot. How about it?"

Scorpius nodded, but it didn't seem like he much wanted to play. Harry took it as a small victory nonetheless, grabbed him by the hand and led him from the bathroom. As it turned out, they didn't have to go far to find Ron and Hermione's kids. The were sitting at the top of the stairs, looking uncertain and worried, Rose smiled when Scorpius looked at them, Hugo grinned after a nudge from his sister.

"Wanna play?" He asked. Harry could have kissed Rose right then. So much like her mother sometimes, Harry could see her hand in Hugo's request. Scorpius looked up at Harry questioningly and he replied with a grin. Rose held out her hand and Scorpius took it as easily as he had Harry's and the three tramped back down the stairs. Harry took a few long breaths before heading down the hall towards the boy's rooms. First he stopped at James' room, looked in, found it empty and rolled his eyes. Typical.

Next stop was Teddy's room where he found them both lolling about on the mattresses. James, lying on his stomach, his legs swaying idly in the air, Teddy spread-eagled on his back, head hanging off the side of the mattress. Harry cleared his throat and both boys looked up, startled.

"This doesn't look like your room, James," Harry commented dryly. Both boy's scrambled to their feet, James mumbled an apology and made as if to leave the room. "No, stay, I may as well talk to you both. Go sit down on the bed."

Teddy and James retreated to the bed in the corner, which typically stayed neglected when he had all his kids gathered together at Grimmauld Place. It was still neatly made from Friday when Harry had put fresh sheets on. There was a desk along the opposite wall and Harry pulled the chair from it, turned it to face the two boys, sat down, crossed his arms and stared at them silently. He had done his fair share of interrogations and one of the most effective ways to get suspects talking was to just sit there, until the silence drove them to speak. Luckily, nine and eight year old boys took less time to crack than a ripe macadamia nut and Teddy almost shouted out his defence.

"He hit my cousin!"

"And you thought it made it right to hit him in return?"

"He deserved it! He was being a total berk!"

"Language, Teddy! I can't imagine Andromeda lets you talk like that," Harry had to wonder where he learned such words. He turned to James, "Don't ever let me catch you saying anything like it, understand? Otherwise you'll have your mouth washed out with soap. Same goes for you too, Teddy. Don't ever use language like that again in this house, especially not about your brother."

"He's _not_ my brother," Teddy hissed fiercely and Harry was taken aback, the silence rang throughout the room, even James looked upset at the statement but held his tongue.

"Is that how you feel, Teddy? That Al isn't your brother?" Harry asked. He hoped it wasn't the case. Teddy gave no answer, refusing to meet Harry's eyes. "Is that how you feel about James? And me? Are we not your family?" At that Teddy did look up and shook his head emphatically.

"No, you are, I didn't...it's just...he hurt my cousin!"

"And you really hurt _him_, both of you!" Harry snapped, more loudly than he'd intended. The two boys reared back, shock written across their faces. Harry tried very hard not to raise his voice where possible so it was a rare occurrence when he did yell at the boys. Considering his past volatility as a teenager, he'd been doing well, but he was no saint. What he _was,_ was tired and cranky and at the end of his tether. He took a couple of deep breaths and massaged the bridge of his nose in an attempt to ward off the headache that was forming behind his eyes, knocking his glasses askew.

"We were only joking," James responded after a moment, but by the way he hung his head and the defensive tone in his voice, he knew they'd both gone overboard with their teasing.

"A joke ceases to be funny when you're making it at someone's expense, James. Al was really hurt by what you both said to him. How would you like to be told that you were being replaced by someone else? Or that you could no longer come visit, Teddy, because you're not really related to us?" Harry almost regretted saying it the moment it left his mouth, almost. Teddy's eyes filled with tears and his hair turned a sullen blue-grey.

"I- I'm still allowed to visit, aren't I?"

Harry abandoned his chair and moved over to the bed. "Come on, budge up," he told the boys and they moved aside to give Harry room to sit between them. Harry slung an arm around each of his boy's shoulders and pulled them against his sides. "I would never say that to you, Teddy, do you hear? Whether you like it or not, you're stuck with me, okay? You will always be a part of this family and we all love you and there is very little that you could ever do to change that. But do you understand now, how you made Al feel with your 'jokes'?"

Teddy nodded, and wiped at his face with his sleeve.

"I'm not saying that what Al did was excusable," Harry continued, looking from one boy to the other. "He should know better than to push someone around like that and he's going to be punished for it, but I want you two to keep in mind that he might not have done that to Scorpius if you hadn't teased him so much. And I want you to think. Before you go and make jokes about someone, I want you to put yourself in their position. It doesn't feel nice to be made to feel worthless or to be laughed at; remember that, okay?"

"'m sorry, Harry," Teddy murmured into his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around Harry's waist and Harry pulled him into a tight one-armed hug, planting a small kiss on his forehead.

"I'm sorry too, dad," James chorused and received a hug and a kiss of his own.

"Just remember to apologise to Al, as well, boys. Okay?" They nodded sincerely at his request and Harry had to accept their word on it. He'd know by the end of the day if they hadn't, but they were good boys - when they chose to be - and normally they got on rather well. "Alright, now get outside and play. Rose, Hugo and Scorpius should be out there already."

They needed no further urging and were out of the room like miniature rockets, racing down the hall, stampeding down the stairs and disappearing from earshot. Harry took a moment to rub at his temples before slowly standing and making his way to Al's room. He was getting well tired of playing peacekeeper today and it wasn't even past ten o'clock yet. He had a whole day of intervention ahead of him if this morning was any kind of example.

When he initially opened Al's bedroom door, the room appeared empty but true to tradition, a pair of green eyes blinked roundly at him from beneath the desk, which stood opposite the door. Harry's mouth twitched in wont of a grin but he buried it quickly and shut the door behind him. He leaned up against it and slid to the floor, crossing his legs beneath him as he faced off with his youngest child. Though he'd never admit to having a favourite child, he had a huge soft spot for Al. Maybe it was because they were so similar, not only in looks but in the way they handled their emotions.

Even though Harry had hated living in the cupboard under the stairs, it had always felt safe and it was somewhere to hide when he needed to. Whenever he was upset, he usually found himself breathing easier if he could withdraw into a small hidey-hole in order to calm down. Ginny always had difficulty dealing with Al and often didn't have the patience to sit silently and wait for him to come out from whatever nook he'd wedged himself into. Ginny found James easier to handle. After a bit of yelling, silent treatment that would last maybe five minutes and some sulking, James would usually come good. Ginny had joked that it was very like dealing with Harry when he was in a mood and he couldn't really disagree.

But as a young boy, he'd not had the luxury of being indulged if he flew off the handle in a rage and had coped like Al did now; by finding a small, quiet space and simply breathing. Harry shut his eyes, and rested his head against the door, taking his own deep breaths and relaxing. It wasn't the most comfortable place to sit, but he'd had plenty of practice at it. He must have dozed off not long afterwards, as he was suddenly woken by Al crawling into his lap. It couldn't have been too long, maybe ten minutes; the shadows hadn't even shifted.

Harry wrapped his arms around his youngest and pulled him against his chest with a surprised yelp from Al.

"I'm still angry at you, you know," Harry informed him, conversationally. He was too tired to inject any sort of feeling into his words.

"I didn't mean to hurt him," Al insisted.

"I know, my boy, I know," Harry replied, idly combing Al's hair into some semblance of order. "You have to stop taking what those two say to heart. They only tease you because of the way you react." He felt Al nod beneath his hand. "It's not true, you know. I'd never give you up for anyone, you hear?"

"It's just...you were making pancakes with him," Al said as if that explained it. And it did, after a fashion. Usually it would have been Al helping him with breakfast, if he were awake and his reaction to Scorpius suddenly made a lot more sense.

"That doesn't mean I like him more than you, Al. You're my little boy, I love _you. _I was just trying to make Scorpius feel welcome. I _had_ been hoping that you'd get along with him. He could do with a friend, you know?" Al remained silent so Harry persisted. "He thinks you hate him and he was really upset by it. I think he wants you to like him. I don't fancy he's met too many children his own age, he probably doesn't know how to go about making friends." It was all guesses on Harry's part. For all he knew, Draco organised play dates for Scorpius and parties where he invited all his acquaintances around with their children all the time. "Will you at least try, for me?"

"Okay, Dad," Al agreed.

"Make sure you apologise to him. He could have been seriously hurt. I want you to promise me you won't hurt anyone like that again."

"I promise," he murmured.

"Good. Now, off. I have to go watch the others downstairs. I want you to stay in your room until you've calmed down fully and had a good think." Al opened his mouth as if he was about to protest, then snapped his jaw shut and nodded. "Good boy, I'll come and get you in a bit." Harry had to admit that as far as punishment went, this was rather mild, but Al's window looked directly onto the backyard where he'd be able to see all his family having fun outside and playing without him - that would be the true torment.

Harry checked the time as he passed the clock on the way to the backyard. It was ten past ten. He'd leave Al up there for another twenty minutes or so before fetching him. Harry _accio'd _the book he'd been reading from the end table in the sitting room and continued out the back, stationing himself in the seat by the table on the back step. On a normal Sunday, he'd be out there playing with the kids but he simply didn't have the energy today.

After the bathroom incident, both Teddy and James were on their best behaviour and aside from a squabble over who would be on whose team, all five managed to get on remarkably well, much to Harry's grateful relief. It left him the freedom to read in relative peace, though he kept an ear on them as he attempted to get through at least one page of his book. He'd been trying to read it for six months and only read forty pages in. Even now his attention wavered and his eyelids were heavy; keeping them open was being more and more difficult.

On several occasions he found his eyelids snapping open at a shout or laugh and some time later, when his book fell with a thud to the pavement, he realised that one head was missing - a little blond one. He stood up and approached the knot of children who were crouched around the pond in the back corner of the yard, searching for frogs. "Rose," he called, she looked up immediately and trotted over. "Where's Scorpius?"

She frowned for a moment, thinking, "He went inside the house about ten minutes ago," she replied decisively.

"Thanks," Harry responded and with every appearance of calm entered the house, though he was madly wracking his brain, trying to remember if there was anything dangerous in the house that Scorpius could injure himself on or if he'd left the front door and unlocked and the boy had wandered off. After searching the kitchen, sitting room and library, he took the staircase two steps at a time and checked the bathroom, which was likewise empty. He looked in on Teddy's room, then James' and as he approached Al's heard the muted sounds of conversation. The door was slightly ajar and he peered in.

Al and Scorpius were sitting across from each other, a puzzle between them as they slowly constructed the picture piece by piece. Harry's breath rushed out of him all in one go and he collapsed against the wall by the door, relieved to find Scorpius, relieved to see them getting along and thankful that there wasn't another mess he'd have to navigate. They were laughing softly together at some joke or other and Harry decided to leave them to it. He made his way back down the hall, down the stairs, into the kitchen where he collapsed into his usual chair, dropped his head onto the hardwood table with an audible _thunk_ and groaned.

Harry turned his head when he heard a nearby scraping sound and saw Kreacher's fingers pushing a mug of coffee closer to his hand. "Oh, you are a lifesaver, Kreacher," he announced appreciatively and took the mug and breathed it in gratefully before taking a tentative sip. Almost as soon as the liquid touched his tongue he felt better, all the way down to his toes. He let out a blissful sigh.

"Can you make lunch, Kreacher? Enough for all the little monsters?" Harry asked. Kreacher's ears perked up, though he tried hard to hide his pleasure at the request.

"Of course, Master Harry. Kreacher can make lunch for many more than that. Kreacher is good at making lunch for many. Kreacher should be told more often to make lunch," the last was said with a reproving tone. Harry ignore the rambling. At least he no longer called Hermione's kids mudbloods and blood-traitors.

"Thanks Kreacher," he replied, the elf grunted noncommittally and began to move about the kitchen. Unlike most House-elves, Kreacher wasn't shy about being seen doing chores. But then, there was something not quite right about him. Harry kept his back to him at any rate. He didn't often sit in the kitchen when Kreacher was working since it made him feel awkward and out of place, but he couldn't bring himself to move this time.

It was a good thing too, because suddenly the fire roared and turned green for the second time that morning, and for the second time he was greeted by Hermione wearing a pleading expression.

"Oh no, what now?" Harry said before he could help himself.

"Thank you, Harry, yes, Ron's doing well, thanks for asking," Hermione responded sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Glad to hear it. _Now_, what's up?" Harry prodded, in no humour to be polite at this stage. Hermione glared at him for a long minute then acquiesced.

"Well, St Mungo's have sent him home with the all clear but they've instructed us to ensure he gets some rest and some peace and quiet..."

"You were wondering if I'd look after Rose and Hugo for the night."

"I'd only be for tonight, I swear!"

Harry sighed, resigning himself to the inevitable. What were two more little monsters, after all? So long as he didn't get Angelina or Fleur pushing _their _kids through the fire place, he'd be able to keep his sanity.

"Oh! How the favours mount up!" He pronounced theatrically, gesturing wildly with his hand and swinging back in his chair.

"You're a saint," Hermione deadpanned. "I appreciate it, really. Hold on and I'll pass you their sleep-over bags." Clearly Hermione had known he wouldn't refuse as she barely paused before handing them through the flames.

"One day I'm going to collect on all these favours," Harry warned. Hermione snorted indelicately.

"You haven't yet, even once. Anyway, I know it's the holidays but Rose and Hugo -"

"Go to bed at nine, I know. I remember. Now go away and look after your husband."

"I love you too, Harry," Hermione sang before abruptly shutting down the floo connection. Harry would like to say that Hermione had mellowed in her old age, but somehow he doubted it. At least he no longer had her nagging him to do his homework. She had been a nightmare. He turned to Kreacher, thinking.

"Kreacher, do you want to cook dinner as well, tonight?"

Kreacher nearly sliced off his fingers in surprise. He turned to Harry with watering eyes and an expression that read as if no finer gift could be bestowed and bowed, reverentially, nose brushing the stone floor. "My honour," he replied with a quaver.

Harry retreated immediately after that, shuddering. Creepy. He tracked down the four outside, now tossing the quaffle about, Hugo in the middle trying to intercept the ball and announced that the Weasley siblings would be staying the night, which pleased them greatly. Harry then spent the better part of an hour preparing the upstairs sitting room; the children would more than likely insist on all sleeping in the one room and sometimes it was easier just to go along with it than argue. He shifted the mattresses and piles of bedding from Teddy's bedroom floor and gathered three more from various rooms and laid them out with fresh sheets and pillows, head to head in the sitting room. As he was climbing wearily to his feet, the clock in the hall downstairs chimed the hour. Delighted yips and yells floated up from the back garden and he listened as four eager children trampled into the house.

Harry stopped at Al's bedroom door as he made his way down the hall and rapped on the door frame before peaking in. The two boys were on the bed, Scorpius sitting with his legs stretched in front of him, a comic in his lap and Al was lying with his head hanging off the bed and his comic upside down so he could read from his awkward position. There were a pile of comics scattered around his bed - a mixture of muggle and wizard ones, the puzzle they'd been working on lay completed on the floor not far off. "Lunch, boys," he called. Al let himself tumble off the bed, where Scorpius climbed down in a dignified fashion. Al flashed Harry a huge smile before darting beneath his arm and racing down the stairs. Scorpius approached Harry at a much more sedate pace.

"Thank you, Scorpius, for forgiving Al," Harry grabbed Scorpius by the shoulder before he could pass. "You didn't have to, you know, but I'm grateful you did."

Scorpius blushed scarlet and averted his eyes. "He's nice," Scorpius replied with a shrug, then meeting Harry's gaze with a timid smile, "He said sorry, too."

Harry grinned happily in response. "Go on, off you go, before you miss out on all the good food," he said, giving Scorpius an encouraging nudge. The boy needed no further telling and made his way swiftly down the stairs to join the ruckus below. Harry braced himself against the door-frame and allowed himself a moment just to breath. He loved his kids, honestly but they were nothing if not a handful. Maybe he'd be able to sneak in a nap while they were eating. His stomach grumbled in protest and the idea dissolved in the wake of his hunger. Harry stretched out his spine and went to join the chaos downstairs, hoping that there'd still be some food left by the time he reached it. Rest would have to wait; at least he'd sleep well tonight.

Or so he thought. For the second night running, he was awakened by a burning sensation on his arm. For a moment he wondered if he'd wound up in a looping spell or the film "Groundhog Day" until he read the edge of the coin by the light of his wand. _Outside. Can't find door. Let me in._

Harry half-stumbled, half-fell down the two flights of stairs, he was only glad that the room the children were in was far enough away that the sounds of his descent would be muffled. Teddy was a notoriously light sleeper but Harry hoped they were sufficiently exhausted after the day they'd had that even he would remain abed.

He switched on the hall light as he yanked open the door with his other hand. Out on the street, just shy of the spill of light from the door stood Malfoy in his hospital pyjamas, robe and slippers, shivering in the cool night air. He jerked around when he heard the door rattle open and held a hand to shield his eyes from the brightness, narrowing them to discern Harry' shape. "Malfoy? What on earth..?" Harry's voice seemed to clinch it and Draco was pushing past him into the hallway before Harry could even vocalise his surprise. After a moment, he pulled the door shut behind him. Draco was looking suddenly uncertain, as if he didn't know how he'd got there. Harry noted that his slippers were filthy and sodden, his pyjama bottoms covered almost six inches in dirt and his hands were white with cold. It was approaching the end of summer and though it was still hot during the day, the nights were cooling off and Harry couldn't imagine that Draco's attire would be enough to ward off the chill, especially this close to midnight.

"What are you doing here, _how_ did you get here?" Draco's mouth fluttered open, then shut and he grimaced, hissing through his teeth. He was still shaking and Harry decided to take pity on him. It looked like Malfoy had been through a bit of an ordeal; his eyes had dark stains beneath them, his hair was sticking out every which way and he appeared practically dead on his feet. It was the hair that decided it for him. It didn't matter what Harry had seen Malfoy go through, his hair was normally immaculate. Only when he'd reach breaking point would Malfoy's hair ever appear less than perfect. He also reasoned that if he was in Draco's position, he'd appreciate a warm fire, a hot mug of tea and feeling returned to his fingers. Harry's questions could wait.


End file.
